f1-*- 


THE  DEVIL'S  CRADLE 


.  OF  CALIF. 


Tnc 


THE 

DEVIL'S  CRADLE 


BY 

MRS.  ALFRED   SIDGWICK 

AUTHOR  OF 
"SALT  OF  THE  EARTH,"  ETC. 


NEW  YORK 
W.  J.  WATT  &  COMPANY 

PUBLISHERS 


Copyright,  1918,  by 
W.  J.   WATT  &  COMPANY 


PHIB9    Of 

BRAUNWOnTH    ft    CO. 

BOOK    MANUFACTURIRI 

BROOKLYN.    N.    V. 


THE  DEVIL'S  CRADLE 


2132947 


THE   DEVIL'S  CRADLE 


"TT  AM  going  to  Germany,"  I  said  looking  up  from  my 

letters. 
-*-         "What  for  ?"  said  Dad.    He  never  wasted  words. 

"Eugenie  Gutheim  is  going  to  be  married  and  wants 
me  to  come  to  her  wedding.  I  promised  her  I  would 
if  she  won  her  bet." 

Dad  and  I  were  sitting  opposite  to  each  other  in  our 
flat  in  Sloane  Gardens.  It  was  the  end  of  April,  1913, 
and  I  had  various  engagements  for  the  month  of  May. 
But  when  Eugenie's  letter  came  I  decided  as  I  read  it 
that  I  would  throw  them  all  to  the  winds  and  go  to 
Reichenstadt.  I  was  accustomed  to  see  Dad  fly  off  to 
the  ends  of  the  earth  at  a  few  hours'  notice  and  not 
appear  again  for  months:  but  I  had  never  been  with 
him.  In  fact  I  had  never  been  abroad.  Mother  had 
been  an  invalid  for  some  time  before  her  death  two 
years  ago  and  unable  to  travel :  and  while  I  was  at  school 
I  spent  the  holidays  at  English  seaside  places  or  at  home. 
It  was  time  for  me  to  see  a  foreign  country  and  enlarge 
my  mind.  I  had  to  decide  such  things  for  myself  be- 
cause Dad  had  other  things  to  think  of  and  even  when 


2  THE  DEVIL'S  CRADLE 

he  talked  to  me  had  an  absent  look  in  his  eyes  and  an 
appearance  of  fixing  his  thoughts  with  difficulty  on  my 
trivial  affairs. 

"I  am  going  to  Germany,  Dad,"  I  said  again,  for  he 
was  opening  his  Times  and  would,  I  knew,  be  immersed 
in  it  in  another  moment. 

"By  yourself?" 

"Yes.    Why  not?" 

"Can  you  speak  German?" 

"A  little.    Enough  to  get  to  Reichenstadt." 

"Eugenie  Gutheim!  that  bounding  good-looking  girl 
who  stayed  here  one  Easter!  What  do  you  mean  by 
saying  she  has  won  her  bet  ?" 

"We  ha'd  a  bet  together  when  she  left  school  I  said 
she  would  marry  a  business  man  and  she  said  she  would 
marry  an  officer  however  difficult  it  was." 

"Why  should  it  be  difficult?" 

"Because  the  Gutheims  are  Jews.  Eugenie  told  me 
that  no  officers  visited  at  their  house.  Yet  she  has  pulled 
it  off." 

"Doesn't  she  tell  you  his  name?  If  some  Captain 
Snooks  wants  to  marry  you,  which  heaven  forbid,  you 
won't  talk  of  him  as  'an  officer,'  will  you  ?" 

"His  name  is  Eduard  von  Gosen.  Noble,  too,  you  see. 
No  wonder  Eugenie  is  excited.  Shall  I  read  you  her 
letter?" 

I  read  a  page  of  it  and  then  Dad  said  he  would 
imagine  the  rest.  There  was  too  much  ecstasy  in  it  for 
his  taste.  Eduard  was  in  raptures  about  Eugenie  and 
Eugenie  was  in  raptures  about  Eduard.  His  godly 
beauty!  his  martial  bearing!  his  tender  heart!  and,  oh! 
his  kiss! 

"But  that  last  is  a  quotation,"  I  explained,  for  Dad 


THE  DEVIL'S  CRADLE  3 

looked  rather  sick.  "And  Eugenie's  father  is  giving  her 
all  the  furniture  and  twenty  thousand  pounds.  In  marks 
it  sounds  stupendous." 

"H — m,"  said  Dad.  "You  can  have  your  jaunt  to 
Germany  if  you  have  set  your  heart  on  it,  but  don't 
bring  a  lieutenant  back  with  you." 

I  thought  I  could  promise  Dad  not  to  do  that.  I 
meant  to  marry  an  Englishman  if  I  married  at  all,  but 
I  was  in  no  hurry.  I  was  enjoying  my  present  life  too 
much  to  want  to  change  it  and  next  time  Dad  went 
across  the  world  I  meant  to  go  with  him.  I  had  told 
him  so  and  he  had  only  stared  and  said  nothing.  When 
the  time  came  I  should  pack  my  trunk  and  remind  him 
to  take  two  tickets  instead  of  one. 

A  week  later  I  was  on  my  way  to  Reichenstadt.  I 
knew  that  I  was  young  and  inexperienced  to  travel  alone. 
At  least  I  knew  that  other  people  would  say  so  and  that 
if  Mother  had  been  alive,  I  should  never  have  been 
allowed  to  do  it.  But  Dad  never  thought  of  little  things 
like  that  and  luckily  I  had  no  old  aunts  and  cousins  to 
interfere.  I  did  not  take  Wilkins,  my  maid,  because  I 
knew  from  Eugenie  that  there  would  be  no  room  for 
her  in  their  flat  and  that  if  ever  I  was  invited  there  I 
should  be  expected  by  myself.  She  had  said  that  in 
Germany  girls  did  not  have  maids  of  their  own  unless 
they  belonged  to  the  highest  and  wealthiest  circles  and 
that  you  would  hardly  be  accompanied  by  one  on  a 
visit  unless  you  were  a  royalty  or  a  millionaire. 

Dad  saw  me  off  from  Charing  Cross,  told  me  to  take 
care  of  my  keys  and  my  ticket  and  asked  me  to  send 
him  a  wire  when  I  got  to  Reichenstadt.  He  described 
Calais  station  to  me  and  the  two  trains  that  would  be 
waiting  for  Paris  and  Cologne  and  he  reminded  me  that 


4  THE  DEVIL'S  CRADLE 

I  should  have  to  change  at  Cologne.  He  did  not  expect 
me  to  have  any  difficulties. 

"The  girl  who  came  from  Arabia  looking  for  her  lover 
knew  how  easy  traveling  was,"  he  pointed  out.  "She 
just  said  Thomas ,  London and  got  there." 

So  when  I  arrived  at  Cologne  I  rembered  the  Saracen 
girl  and  said  Reichenstadt  to  the  first  porter  I  saw :  and 
he  took  me  straight  to  a  train  waiting  at  a  siding.  I 
think  our  train  must  have  been  late  for  he  hurried  me 
into  a  first-class  compartment  as  if  there  was  not  a 
moment  to  lose,  threw  my  dressing-case  after  me,  took 
my  tip  and  banged  the  door  as  we  got  under  way. 
There  were  two  people  in  the  compartment,  an  officer 
in  a  grayish  uniform  and  a  boy  of  about  twelve  who 
wore  spectacles  and  looked  thin  and  ill.  The  officer 
seemed  to  be  a  most  disagreeable  man.  As  my  porter 
opened  the  door  he  had  commanded  him  in  a  hectoring 
voice  to  find  another  place  for  the  lady  as  he  wished  to 
travel  in  peace.  But  there  had  been  no  time.  I  was 
on  the  step,  the  train  began  to  move,  several  railway 
men  were  shouting  indignantly  at  my  porter  and  me, 
and  all  I  could  do  was  to  stumble  in.  I  might  have  gone 
along  the  corridor  and  looked  for  another  seat,  but  I 
did  not  feel  inclined  to.  I  was  not  in  the  officer's  way 
and  I  had  as  much  right  to  my  corner  as  he  had  to 
his.  The  boy  and  he  both  sat  with  their  backs  to  the 
engine  and  the  boy  sat  opposite  me.  They  did  not  speak- 
to  each  other  and  it  did  not  occur  to  me  that  they 
were  traveling  together.  The  boy  looked  at  me  a  good 
deal,  but  the  man  stared  out  of  the  window  and  seemed 
to  be  annoyed.  He  had  a  hard  arrogant  profile,  fine  in 
its  way,  but  cold.  Presently  two  other  officers  looked  in, 
stared  at  me  and  asked  him  to  come  with  them  to  the 


THE  DEVIL'S  CRADLE  5 

Buffet.  He  got  up  to  do  so  and  then  I  realized  how 
tall  he  was  and  how  strongly  made.  Directly  he  had 
gone  the  boy  in  spectacles  looked  up  at  me  and  said: 

"Gnddiges  Fraulein  is  English?" 

"Yes,"  I  said,  "how  did  you  know  ?" 

"One  sees  it:  besides,  I  heard  you  speak  to  the 
porter." 

"I'm  glad  that  odious  man  has  gone.  I  hope  he  won't 
come  back.  I  think  I'll  take  his  place." 

"He  will  come  back,"  said  the  boy,  getting  very  red 
and  uncomfortable. 

"Do  you  know  him?" 

"He  is  my  father.  He  is  Graf  v.  Hohenroda,  Rltt- 
meister  in  the  2nd  Reichenstadt  Dragoons.  I  am  Graf 
Max  v.  Hohenroda." 

The  boy  stood  up,  put  his  heels  together,  made  me  a 
deep  bow  and  sat  down  again. 

"I'm  sorry,"  I  said;  "you  didn't  speak  to  each  other 
and  so  I  didn't  guess  .  .  .  besides,  you  are  not  at  all 
alike." 

"It  does  not  matter,"  said  the  boy,  who  had  charming 
manners.  "You  could  not  know.  Unfortunately  for  me 
I  do  not  resemble  my  father.  My  mother  was  an 
Eschenau  and  all  the  Eschenaus  are  small  and  fair  and 
delicate.  It  cannot  be  helped,  but  it  makes  life  difficult." 

He  looked  downright  ill,  I  thought :  ill  and  melancholy. 
Probably  the  big,  arrogant  man  bullied  him.  I  could 
easily  believe  it. 

"Life  would  be  easier  at  the  present  moment  if  I  could 
get  some  breakfast,"  I  said.  "I'm  starving." 


6  THE  DEVIL'S  CRADLE 


II 


"XTOU  have  only  to  ring  that  bell,"  said  the  boy, 
pointing  to  one  I  had  not  noticed.  "The  Kell- 
ner  will  bring  you  what  you  want  here:  or  of 
course  you  can  go  to  the  Buffet.4' 

"Have  you  had  breakfast  ?'•'  I  asked. 

"No,"  he  said,  with  some  hesitation  and  a  blush  that 
made  him  quite  pretty  for  the  moment.  I  felt  sure 
that  his  mother  had  been  pretty,  with  gentle  blue  eyes 
and  fair  hair:  and  she  had  been  married  to  that  big 
blood  and  iron  man :  and  had  died. 

"Let's  have  it  together  ...  in  here,"  I  said.  "I 
don't  want  to  go  to  the  Buffet." 

The  waiter  came  running  along  the  corridor  as  I  spoke 
and  before  the  boy  had  time  to  object  I  gave  the  order. 
In  a  few  minutes  we  had  an  ingenious  little  table  let 
down  between  us  and  a  tray  brought  with  delicious  hot 
coffee,  fresh  rolls  and  ambrosial  butter.  They  do  some 
things  much  better  in  the  Fatherland  than  we  do  at 
home.  But  not  everything. 

By  this  time  we  were  traveling  through  wooded  hill 
country  with  deep  valleys,  winding  rivers  and  little  towns 
set  here  and  there.  The  boy  knew  the  names  of  the 
towns  and  the  number  of  their  inhabitants  and  what 
they  manufactured.  He  said  that  he  took  this  journey 
every  year  in  order  to  visit  his  maternal  grandparents 
who  lived  near  Cologne  and  that  his  father  had  told  him 
all  these  facts  about  the  towns  and  expected  him  to  re- 
member them. 

"When  I  travel  I  like  to  look  out  of  the  window  and 


THE  DEVIL'S  CRADLE  7 

dream,"  I  said.  "I  should  hate  to  be  told  things  that  I 
was  obliged  to  remember." 

"My  father  says  that  dreams  profit  nobody,"  said  the 
boy  with  a  sigh.  "A  man  must  be  well  informed  and 
acquainted  with  facts." 

He  buttered  his  third  roll  and  I  poured  out  a  second 
cup  of  coffee  for  him.  We  both  felt  better  for  our 
breakfast,  the  sun  was  shining  on  the  hills,  the  train 
lumbered  slowly  forward  and  voices  from  the  corridor 
reached  us  in  fragmentary  dialogue  with  laughter  in- 
tervening. Presently  the  waiter  appeared  again  and  said 
something  in  an  undertone  to  the  boy,  who  instantly 
got  up. 

"My  father  has  sent  for  me,"  he  said,  looking  de- 
cidedly frightened.  But  before  he  went  he  made  one 
of  his  ceremonious  bows  again  and  said  that  it  had  been 
a  great  pleasure  to  him  to  have  breakfast  with  me. 
When  he  had  gone  I  paid  the  waiter  for  my  breakfast 
and  found  that  the  bearish  man  had  paid  for  the  boy's. 

Presently  I  fell  asleep.  I  did  not  want  to  because  we 
were  going  through  such  lovely  country,  but  after  a 
sleepless  night,  breakfast  and  the  hot  sun  combined  were 
too  much  for  me.  At  first  I  fought  against  my  drowsi- 
ness, stared  out  of  the  window  and  tried  hard  to  keep 
awake.  Then  I  dreamed  and  heard  voices  through  my 
dreams.  Then  I  sat  up  suddenly,  looked  at  my  watch 
and  found  it  was  midday:  so  I  must  have  been  asleep 
for  hours.  Very  annoying.  The  boy  and  his  father  sat 
opposite  me  again  and  the  father  looked  as  point-device 
as  if  he  had  been  on  parade:  while  I  felt  dazed  and 
disheveled. 

"Does  this  train  go  through  to  Reichenstadt  ?"  I  said 
to  the  boy,  for  I  was  not  sure.  After  all  we  had  had 


8  THE  DEVIL'S  CRADLE 

breakfast  together  and  made  friends.  But  I  shall  always 
believe  that  he  had  been  told  not  to  speak  to  me  for 
he  colored  painfully  and  turned  to  his  father  for  in- 
struction. 

"This  train  goes  through  to  Reichenstadt,"  said  the 
man.  "Some  do  not,  but  this  is  the  quick  train  from 
Cologne." 

"My  wig!"  I  cried,  "if  this  is  a  quick  train,  what  is  a 
slow  one  like?" 

He  almost  thawed  into  a  smile  but  not  quite. 

"Our  train  service  is  excellent,"  he  said.  "At  least 
we  think  so."  Then  he  turned  his  head  again  and  re- 
sumed his  study  of  the  landscape.  I  took  out  a  book 
and  began  to  read  and  the  boy  watched  me  intently. 
Perhaps  his  father  noticed  this  and  did  not  like  it,  for 
in  a  few  minutes  he  turned  to  his  son  and  ordered  him 
in  a  harsh  voice  to  come  to  his  side  of  the  carriage  and 
sit  opposite  him.  I  cannot  convey  his  manner  of  speak- 
ing to  anyone  who  has  not  met  Germans  of  his  type 
because  in  our  country  we  hardly  scold  dogs  in  such  a 
tone.  The  nearest  thing  to  it  that  I  know  is  the  rasping 
voice  of  a  sergeant  drilling  raw  recruits:  but  he  is  ad- 
dressing a  number  of  men  and  not  an  individual.  Be- 
sides, he  has  to  shout  to  make  himself  heard.  The  boy 
moved  at  once  and  as  he  did  so  stumbled  a  little  over 
my  foot.  His  father  said  something  violent  in  so  low 
a  tone  that  I  did  not  catch  the  words,  but  the  boy  looked 
as  if  he  would  cry  in  another  moment  and  stopped  short 
where  he  stood,  his  eyes  fixed  on  mine. 

"You  didn't  hurt  me,"  I  said. 

"Your  foot  should  not  have  been  there,"  said  his 
father. 

"Perhaps  not,"  said  I,  taken  by  surprise. 


THE  DEVIL'S  CRADLE  9 

"There  is  no  doubt  about  it.  I  observed  that  your 
foot  was  at  least  two  inches  beyond  your  part  of  the 
floor." 

"Then  I  must  apologize  to  you,"  I  said,  looking  up  at 
the  boy  and  smiling  at  him. 

"That  is  far  fetched,"  said  his  father.  "A  boy  should 
take  care  not  to  be  clumsy  and  even  if  it  is  not  his  fault 
he  should  apologize." 

I  relapsed  into  my  book  again  after  this  for  though 
the  man  had  spoken  to  me  his  manner  had  been  as  ar- 
rogant and  disagreeable  as  before.  When  the  waiter 
announced  dinner  he  got  up  at  once  and  stalked  out  of 
the  carriage  without  waiting  to  see  whether  I  was  com- 
ing, too,  and  I  hoped  that  I  should  not  be  placed  at  the 
same  table.  But  I  was.  The  two  Hohenrodas  sat  on 
one  side  and  I  sat  next  to  an  enormous  female  who 
bulged  over  her  seat  and  nearly  edged  me  off  mine.  She 
wore  a  shiny  gray  alpaca  skirt,  a  white  blouse  (such  a 
one !),  a  sort  of  Paisley  bolero  and  a  pork-pie  hat  perched 
on  smooth  sandy  hair  done  in  a  bun  behind.  When  the 
waiter  came  round  with  the  wine-list  she  ordered 
Marcobrunner  and  the  Graf  ordered  Marcobrunner,  too. 
I  don't  drink  wine  as  a  rule,  but  in  spite  of  my  sleep 
since  breakfast  I  felt  flat  and  tired  so  I  did  what  I 
thought  was  the  safe  thing  and  ordered  Marcobrunner, 
too.  But  when  the  wine  came  I  found  that  whole 
bottles  had  been  brought  for  the  bearish  man  and  me 
and  a  half  bottle  for  the  female  at  my  side.  They  were 
uncorked  so  I  did  not  try  to  change  it.  But  I  looked 
at  it  ruefully  and  my  neighbor  looked  at  it  severely  and 
the  boy  laughed. 

"Gnadiges  Fraulein  is  assuredly  very  thirsty,"  he  said 
mischievously. 


10  THE  DEVIL'S  CRADLE 

"Max!"     His  father  glowered  at  him. 

"Of  course  I  wanted  half  a  bottle,"  I  said,  "but  it 
doesn't  matter." 

It  didn't  in  the  least,  for  as  I  spoke  the  boy  stretched 
out  his  hand  for  the  Speisekarte  and  upset  my  bottle 
with  the  neck  falling  towards  me  and  pouring  a  stream 
of  wine  into  my  lap.  I  jumped  up  to  avoid  being  soaked, 
the  stout  female  screeched  like  a  cockatoo,  everyone  near 
us  stared,  the  boy  turned  as  white  as  a  sheet,  and  his 
father,  after  he  had  seized  the  bottle  and  set  it  on  end 
again,  said  to  him  in  that  agreeable  voice  of  his : 

"Away!  If  you  can't  behave  yourself  you  may  go 
hungry." 

"He  didn't  do  it  on  purpose,"  I  said  indignantly. 

The  man  took  no  more  notice  of  me  than  if  I  had 
not  spoken,  but  turned  to  the  boy  and  with  an  imperious 
gesture  confirmed  his  order  of  dismissal. 

"Oh!  do  forgive  him,"  I  said,  "I  don't  mind  in  the 
least.  Besides,  I  can  get  some  more." 

Instead  of  answering  the  man  summoned  the  wine 
waiter  who  stood  a  little  way  off  and  was  looking  on 
helplessly  at  what  had  happened. 

"A  clean  cloth  and  a  fresh  bottle  of  wine  for  this  lady," 
he  said.  He  spoke  to  the  waiter  much  as  we  speak  to 
a  spaniel  when  we  want  it  to  come  to  heel,  but  I  began 
to  think  it  was  his  natural  tone  to  inferiors  and  subor- 
dinates and  did  not  mean  much.  But  I  was  not  going 
to  fall  in  with  his  ideas. 

"You  need  not  order  fresh  wine  for  me,"  I  said.  "If 
you  drive  your  son  away  I  shall  go  away,  too." 

"On  what  gronuds  ?" 

"I  state  a  fact.    You  may  guess  at  the  reason." 

He  turned  on  his  son  in  a  fury. 


THE  DEVIL'S  CRADLE  n 

"Are  you  here  still?" 

The  boy  fled  before  his  father's  wrath,  a  trembling 
piteous  little  figure.  I  was  so  angry  myself  that  I  could 
hardly  speak,  but  I  only  had  two  words  to  say  and  before 
I  followed  the  boy  I  said  them. 

"Guten  Ap petit!"  I  flung  at  him.  Eugenie  had  some- 
times said  it  to  me  as  we  began  to  eat  so  I  knew  the 
phrase.  Undef  the  circumstances  I  hoped  it  would 
annoy  him  and  I  believe  it  did.  He  looked  like  thunder. 


Ill 


A!1  this  point  I  am  going  to  describe  a  portrait  of 
my  mother  that  hangs  in  the  drawing-room  at 
home.  She  was  alluring  and  exquisite  to  the 
day  of  her  death:  but  when  this  portrait  was  painted 
she  had  a  spice  of  the  devil  in  her  eyes.  "Green  as 
green  flames,  blue-gray  like  skies,  and  soft  like  sighs," 
they  were;  and  her  hair  was  dark  with  bronze  lights  in 
it,  and  her  hands  were  slim  and  white.  That's  enough. 
You  must  imagine  the  rest.  I'm  not  what  she  was,  but 
I'm  like  her  to  look  at.  Dad  says  so.  And  by  the  way 
my  name  is  Karen  Gilfoy.  Dad  is  what  people  call  a 
financier.  He  rushes  about  all  over  the  world  and 
"operates":  but  I  can't  tell  you  much  more  about  his 
ways  of  earning  his  bread.  Sometimes  we  seem  to  be 
rich  and  sometimes  hard  up,  but  we  get  along.  I've 
been  as  well  or  as  ill  educated  as  an  English  girl  is 
who  goes  to  an  expensive  school  and  likes  games  better 
than  work;  and  I've  always  had  all  the  money  I  wanted 
for  clothes.  I  was  not  called  Karen  after  Hans  Ander- 
sen's dancing  girl,  but  after  a  Danish  friend  of  my 


12  JHE  DEVIL'S  CRADLE 

mother's  who  married  an  Englishman  and  was  my  god- 
mother. So  much  for  our  family  affairs. 

I  happened  to  be  traveling  in  a  very  thin  tweed  and 
the  wine  had  soaked  me  through  to  the  skin.  When 
I  got  back  to  the  carriage  the  boy  was  crying  and  I  felt 
hungry  again  and  damp  and  uncomfortable.  So  I  lost 
my  temper  and  rang  the  bell  hard  and  repeatedly.  The 
boy  left  off  crying  when  I  did  that  and  looked  at  me 
in  horror.  Then  he  pointed  to  a  notice  just  under  the 
bell  with  Verboten  in  big  letters  and  a  whole  rigmarole 
in  small  ones.  However,  I  didn't  have  to  read  it  because 
the  noise  I  made  brought  an  official  in  uniform  who 
worked  his  arms  up  and  down  like  a  semaphore  and 
talked  nineteen  to  the  dozen.  My  school  German  would 
not  keep  pace  with  his  so  I  said  twice  in  a  commanding 
voice : 

"Dinner  for  two.  Here.  Quickly.  Do  you  under- 
stand?" 

He  was  beginning  the  semaphore  business  again  when 
I  produced  a  large  silver  coin  and  pressed  it  into  his 
hand,  saying,  as  well  as  I  could  for  laughing: 

"For  you.     Dinner.     Quickly.     Very  hungry." 

All  the  while  the  boy  was  staring  at  me  with  eyes  like 
tea-saucers.  I  believe  he  thought  I  should  be  clapped 
into  prison  there  and  then  for  disrespectful  behavior 
to  an  official  in  uniform.  But,  on  the  contrary,  the  man 
suddenly  turned  as  sweet  as  honey,  disappeared,  and  be- 
fore long  returned  with  a  waiter  and  a  tray.  In  a  twink- 
ling the  little  table  was  let  down  again  between  the  boy 
and  me  and  we  were  eating  veal  cutlets  with  a  macedoine 
of  vegetables  that  was  delicious  and  most  soothing  to 
our  spirits.  I  had  some  trouble  at  first  to  persuade  the 
boy  to  eat.  He  said  his  father  would  not  wish  it.  But 


THE  DEVIL'S  CRADLE  13 

when  the  cutlets  and  the  macedoine  were  put  before  him 
he  could  not  resist  them. 

"Is  your  dress  quite  ruined?"  he  asked  with  a  sigh 
when  he  began  to  feel  better. 

"I  don't  suppose  so,"  I  said,  "a  good  English  tweed 
ought  to  be  able  to  stand  a  little  German  wine." 

I  put  it  in  that  silly  way  because  his  father  had  an- 
noyed me  so  much  and  I  was  still  out  of  temper. 

"You  grow  no  wine  in  England,"  said  the  boy. 

"We  buy  a  good  deal,"  I  countered. 

Then  we  went  on  for  a  while  in  the  same  fashion,  he 
saying  teasing  things  about  England  and  I  crowing  as 
loudly  as  I  could  about  my  country  and  my  folk.  But 
we  did  not  vex  each  other  because  we  were  both  laughing 
and  in  a  happy  frame  of  mind.  I  was  trying  to  prove 
that  a  London  fog  was  rather  enjoyable  if  you  were 
used  to  it  when  back  came  the  bearish  man  and  saw 
his  son  before  his  son  saw  him.  I  believe  it  startled 
him  to  find  the  boy  looking  as  a  boy  of  that  age  should, 
cheerful  and  with  a  bit  of  mischief  in  his  eyes.  At  any 
rate  he  stared  hard  at  him,  stared  at  the  table  still  be- 
tween us  and  stared  at  me  as  if  he  hardly  knew  what  to 
say.  He  had  fine  eyes. 

"You  must  ring,"  I  said  to  the  boy.  "We  want  these 
things  taken  away." 

Then  I  got  up  and  moved  to  the  other  side  of  the 
carriage,  leaving  my  seat  free  for  the  bearish  man  who 
could  not  have  passed  me.  He  sat  down  and  spoke  to 
the  boy  on  whose  face  a  cloud  of  fear  had  descended. 

"I  told  you  to  go  hungry,"  he  said. 

"I  persuaded  him  to  eat,"  said  I.  "It  is  not  good  for 
the  young  to  go  long  without  food.  If  he  had  not  eaten 
he  would  probably  have  been  ill." 


14  THE  DEVIL'S  CRADLE 

He  acknowledged  what  I  said  by  a  stiffening  of  manner 
and  by  an  inclination  of  the  head,  that  was  too  slight 
and  frosty  to  call  a  bow.  When  the  waiter  came  he 
threw  a  paper  note  on  the  table  while  I  stood  up  and 
hurriedly  gaVe  the  man  a  piece  of  gold.  No  doubt  we 
both  felt  rather  silly.  Certainly,  I  did.  However,  the 
waiter  settled  the  matter  by  taking  the  price  of  my  meal 
from  me  and  the  price  of  the  boy's  meal  from  his  father's 
note.  The  table  was  cleared,  the  man  resumed  his 
former  seat,  I  went  back  to  mine  and  we  all  traveled  in 
silence.  I  tried  to  read  and  fell  asleep  again.  When 
I  waked  I  looked  at  my  watch  and  knew  we  must  be 
near  Reichenstadt.  Before  long  the  outskirts  of  the 
town  appeared  and  in  a  few  minutes  we  drew  up  at 
the  big  station.  As  we  did  so  I  saw  Eugenie  Gutheim 
on  the  platform  and  with  her  a  small  fair-haired  man 
in  uniform  with  some  roses  in  his  hand  and  a  girl  I 
guessed  to  be  her  sister  Emma.  They  rushed  up  to  the 
window  when  they  saw  me  and  before  I  could  get  out 
Eugenie  presented  her  bridegroom  and  he  presented  his 
roses.  For  a  moment  I  blocked  the  way  and  the  last 
I  saw  of  the  bearish  man  was  a  profile  that  expressed 
his  contempt  of  the  people  who  met  me  and  who  even 
while  they  welcomed  me  tried  hard  to  attract  his  notice. 
Eugenie's  little  officer  saluted  him,  Eugenie  addressed 
him  as  her  dear  Graf  and  her  sister  gazed  at  him  in 
idiotic  rapture,  as  if  the  privilege  of  seeing  him  deprived 
her  of  her  wits  and  her  speech.  The  Graf  made  me  a 
stiff  bow  before  he  strode  through  the  crowd  and  the 
boy  bade  me  good-bye  as  if  he  was  sorry  to  part  from 
me.  Then  they  disappeared  and  I  imagined  that  I  should 
never  see  them  again. 

Eugenie's  sister  was  a  shock  to  me,  and  so,  to  tell 


THE  DEVIL'S  CRADLE  15 

the  truth,  was  her  bridegroom.  Eugenie  had  always 
assured  me  that  Emma  was  extraordinarily  handsome 
and  she  had  described  Eduard  von  Gosen  as  a  man  of 
high  lineage  and  godly  beauty.  But  if  it  had  not  been 
for  his  uniform  Eduard  would  have  looked  what  in 
fact  he  was:  a  very  ordinary  amiable  little  man  with  a 
snub  nose,  mild  blue  eyes  and  a  foolish  smile.  As  for 
Emma,  she  had  a  parroty  profile  and  the  kind  of  mouth 
you  see  everywhere  in  Germany  and  never  in  England. 
I  can  see  it  as  I  write  and  I  could  draw  it,  but  to  put 
its  distinguishing  marks  into  words  is  difficult.  The 
lips  are  rather  thick  and  the  corners  are  rather  greedy 
and  sulky  and  the  German  gutturals  suit  it  exactly. 
Eugenie  had  the  mouth,  but  she  was  handsomer  than 
her  sister.  Both  girls  were  well  dressed  in  a  heavy 
way,  but  their  hats  were  hideous.  They  were  much  more 
interested  in  the  bearish  man  and  his  son  than  in  me 
and  they  asked  me  a  string  of  questions  about  them. 

"Did  Graf  v.  Hohenroda  speak  to  you?"  asked  Eugenie 
in  an  awe-struck  voice. 

"The  boy  and  I  made  friends,"  I  said. 

"The  Graf  will  be  present  at  our  wedding,  we  hope. 
It  is  a  great  honor,  but  Eduard  knew  him  as  a  boy.  Did 
he  converse  with  you  or  was  it  only  the  little  Graf  who 
showed  himself  amiable?" 

"It  was  only  the  boy.  His  father  was  decidedly  un- 
amiable." 

"Ah !  He  has  that  reputation.  He  is  highly  exclusive 
and  aristocratic.  He  visits  with  hardly  any  one  in 
Reichenstadt.  He  is  a  great  deal  at  court  and  the  Grand- 
Duke  is  devoted  to  him." 

"Does  he  live  in  Reichenstadt  ?" 

"He  comes   there.     He   lives   at   Hohenroda,   in  his 


16  THE  DEVIL'S  CRADLE 

father's  castle.  Eduard  has  known  him  all  his  life  and 
at  first  he  was  very  much  opposed  to  our  marriage." 

"But  when  Eduard  presented  you  to  him  he  was  very 
polite,"  put  in  Emma.  "He  said  he  was  pleased  to  make 
your  acquaintance." 

"I  have  great  hopes  that  he  may  come  to  our  Potter- 
abend  as  well  as  to  our  wedding,"  said  Eduard. 

"Eduard!  What  are  you  saying!"  cried  Emma  in  an 
ecstasy:  and  Eduard  nudged  his  bride.  We  were  all 
in  a  taxi  by  this  time  and  nudging  was  nothing  to  the 
endearments  the  betrothed  pair  had  indulged  in  from 
the  moment  we  started.  At  first  I  had  looked  out  of 
the  window  because  I  did  not  want  to  embarrass  them, 
but  I  found  that  Eugenie  did  not  remove  her  head  from 
Eduard's  shoulder  when  I  turned  mine  their  way:  nor 
did  my  presence  and  Emma's  act  as  any  check  on  the 
need  they  felt  to  press  each  other's  hands  and  to  ad- 
dress each  other  in  those  diminutive  terms  of  endear- 
ment for  which  we  have  no  exact  equivalent  in  the 
English  tongue.  I  may  tell  you  that  he  called  her  his 
little  pigeon  and  that  she  called  him  her  little  treasure, 
but  it  doesn't  sound  the  same  thing. 


IV 


THE  Gutheims  had  a  handsome  flat  in  what  was 
evidently  an  expensive  quarter  of  the  town.     I 
expected  that,  as  at  school  Eugenie  had  talked 
over-much  about  her  father's  money  and  the  luxurious 
way  in  which  the  family  lived.     The  plain  school  fare 
had  been  a  great  trial  to  her  and  so  were  the  school 
regulations  about  clothes  and  jewelry.    She  had  not  been 


THE  DEVIL'S  CRADLE  17 

much  liked  at  school  but  not  exactly  disliked  either; 
for  though  we  thought  her  boastful  and  in  some  ways 
silly  and  touchy  we  found  her  good-natured  and  amus- 
ing. Our  friendship  began  accidentally  in  one  of  the 
short  vacations  when  she  was  not  going  to  Germany  and 
could  not  go  as  usual  to  her  cousins  in  Manchester  on 
account  of  measles.  I  asked  her  to  stay  with  us  and 
we  gave  her  a  good  time.  It  was  easy  to  do  so,  but  she 
was  grateful  and  adopted  me  ever  after  as  her  bosom 
friend.  I  doubt  whether  the  friendship  would  have 
lasted  if  we  had  remained  together  because  my  fervor 
never  equaled  hers.  But  she  went  back  to  Germany  at 
the  end  of  the  term  and  since  then  we  had  not  met.  She 
had  altered  considerably  in  the  three  years  that  had 
elapsed  and  was  now  a  handsome,  self-confident  young 
woman  who  would  some  day  be  enormous  unless  she 
curbed  her  appetite  and  took  plenty  of  exercise.  I  saw 
directly  I  arrived  that  she  was  a  replica  of  her 
mother  who,  however,  belonged  to  a  simpler  generation 
and  gave  herself  no  airs.  Frau  Gutheim  must  have 
weighed  about  eighteen  stone  and  a  man  who  made 
Up  his  mind  to  marry  her  image  could  see  the  fate 
awaiting  him.  Moreover,  the  lady  had  a  temper  and 
made  use  of  it.  Before  I  crossed  the  threshold  she 
was  having  a  row  with  the  taxi-driver  and  the  maid 
about  muddy  boots  and  my  trunks.  But  her  face  was 
wreathed  with  smiles  as  she  received  me  and  when  she 
ushered  me  into  the  room  I  was  to  occupy  she  looked 
at  me  with  appraising  eyes  and  said  that  she  was  de- 
lighted to  have  me  as  her  guest  because  I  had  stood 
by  her  daugher  when  she  was  neglected  and  forsaken 
by  her  relatives. 

"But  they  couldn't  help  it,"  I  said,  "they  had  measles." 


i8 


"Perhaps!"  said  Frau  Gutheim,  showing  plainly  that 
she  did  not  believe  in  the  measles  and  then  she  looked 
round  the  well-furnished  room  with  evident  pride  and 
apologized  for  its  imperfections.  As  I  assured  her  that 
I  saw  everything  necessary  to  my  comfort  Eugenie  came 
in  with  a  vase  of  lilies-of-the-valley  which  she  was  about 
to  put  on  the  dressing-table  when  her  mother  snatched 
it  from  her. 

"No,  Eugenie!"  she  said,  "that  I  will  not  allow. 
Everything  in  reason.  Flowers  in  a  bedroom  are  not 
reasonable.  They  are  unhealthy  and  the  vase  would 
probably  mark  the  highly  polished  toilet-table.  I  con- 
sider toilet-tables  ridiculous.  A  hanging-glass  behind 
your  washstand  is  all  I  had  when  I  was  a  girl.  But 
you  persuaded  your  father  to  buy  this  expensive  suite 
and  my  duty  is  to  take  care  of  it." 

"But,  Mamma,  it  is  the  English  custom.  When  I  stayed 
with  Karen  I  always  found  flowers  on  my  dressing- 
table.  Is  it  not  so,  Karenchen?" 

"One  can  quite  well  do  without  them,"  I  murmured. 

"To  every  country  its  own  ways.  Karen  has  roses 
already.  She  cannot  need  two  kinds  of  flowers  in  order 
to  fall  asleep  to-night  in  what  I  hope  is  a  comfortable 
bed.  Allow  me  to  take  your  roses,  my  child.  They  shall 
be  placed  in  a  glass  and  the  glass  can  stand  on  the  marble 
top  of  the  night-table  near  your  bed.  Marble  can  be 
washed." 

"Mamma  is  very  excited,"  said  Eugenie,  as  her  mother 
waddled  out  of  the  room,  carrying  my  roses  with  her. 
"A  wedding  makes  a  great  deal  to  do  in  the  house  and 
even  in  ordinary  times  she  has  a  hot  temper.  I  shall 
be  glad  when  it  is  all  over  and  I  get  away  with  my 
Eduard  who  is  always  amiable.  Tell  me,  Karen !  What 


THE  DEVIL'S  CRADLE  19 

impression  has  my  Eduard  made  on  you?  Is  he  not 
a  pearl  among  men?" 

I  was  very  glad  the  two  questions  were  asked  in  rapid 
succession  because  I  was  able  to  answer  that  Eduard 
was  undoubtedly  a  pearl,  but  I  could  not  honestly  have 
said  that  he  had  made  much  of  an  impression.  If 
Eugenie  considered  him  a  pearl  he  was  a  pearl  as  far 
as  she  was  concerned  and  in  matrimony  I  suppose  that 
is  what  matters.  I  hastily  changed  the  subject  by  un- 
locking my  big  trunk  and  taking  out  of  it  the  two 
presents  I  had  brought  for  Eugenie:  one  for  her  wed- 
ding and  one  because  I  had  lost  my  bet.  The  wedding- 
present  was  a  diamond  pendant  and  I  paid  my  debt  with 
a  small  traveling  clock  that  had  cost  more  than  we 
wagered  and  would,  I  hoped,  be  useful.  I  don't  think 
she  cared  for  it,  but  her  eyes  glistened  over  the  pendant 
and  in  a  roundabout  way  she  did  her  best  to  discover 
what  it  had  cost.  In  the  end  I  told  her  that  I  did  not 
know  because  Dad  had  bought  it,  but  I  could  find  out 
if  she  wished. 

"I  can  find  out,"  she  said.  "At  least  I  can  find  out 
its  value.  Your  father  might  feel  surprised  if  you 
asked." 

"I  believe  he  would,"  I  admitted. 

When  I  had  put  away  my  things  and  changed  my  dress 
I  was  called  to  supper  in  the  dining-room.  The  girls 
still  wore  their  tweed  skirts  and  silk  blouses,  and  Frau 
Gutheim  was  packed  into  a  black  taffeta  that  creaked 
as  she  breathed  because  it  was  so  tight.  I  thought  she 
must  be  very  uncomfortable,  but  I  suppose  use  is  second 
nature.  She  ate  an  enormous  supper  and  embarrassed 
me  by  getting  quite  ratty  because  I  did  not  eat  enough 
to  please  her.  Eduard  had  stayed  to  supper,  too,  and 


20  THE  DEVIL'S  CRADLE 

did  his  best  to  soothe  his  future  mother-in-law  by  prais- 
ing the  food  and  the  cooking.  When  I  saw  what  was 
wanted  I  said  I  had  never  tasted  anything  so  delicious 
as  the  pickled  cucumbers  which  they  called  Salzgurken: 
but  that  did  no  good  because  it  so  happened  they  had 
been  bought  in  place  of  some  home-made  ones  that  had 
gone  wrong.  Soon  after  I  refused  a  second  helping  of 
Filetbraten  because  I  did  not  want  it,  which  seemed 
to  my  mistaken  English  ideas  a  sufficient  reason.  But 
Frau  Gutheim's  brow  clouded  ominously  and  in  a  sulky 
voice  she  said  to  Eugenie  that  she  feared  their  cooking 
was  not  good  enough  to  please  her  friend. 

"Bei  uns  mussen  Sie  sich  nicht  geniren"  said  Herr 
Gutheim,  and  before  I  could  stop  him  he  had  forked 
a  large  slice  of  meat  out  of  the  dish  near  him  and  plumped 
it  on  my  plate.  He  was  an  amazingly  ugly  small  man 
with  friendly  brown  eyes  and  I  rather  liked  him,  but 
I  did  not  quite  understand  what  he  had  just  said. 

"Nicht  geniren,"  said  Emma,  who  sat  next  to  me  and 
ladled  little  balls  of  buttery  brown  potatoes  on  my  meat. 

"They  mean  that  you  must  eat  as  much  as  you  like 
without  feeling  shy  about  it,"  said  Eugenie  and  then 
told  her  family  in  German  that  in  England  your  hosts 
never  pressed  you  to  eat. 

"But  how  inhospitable!"  said  Frau  Gutheim.  "How 
then  can  a  guest  eat  himself  satisfied?" 

I  tried  to  explain  the  English  point  of  view,  but  I 
did  not  eat  the  meat  and  potatoes.  I'm  afraid  I  made 
a  bad  impression,  but  it  was  worth  while,  for  in  future 
Herr  Gutheim  did  not  put  food  on  my  plate;  and  Frau 
Gutheim  often  observed  that  it  was  useless  to  press 
me  since  English  people  only  considered  their  own  com- 


THE  DEVIL'S  CRADLE  21 

fort,  and  could  not  bring  the  smallest  sacrifice  in  order 
to  please  their  hosts. 

"Imagine,  Mamma,"  said  Eugenie,  when  the  food 
question  had  been  discussed  sufficiently,  "Karen  traveled 
in  the  same  carriage  with  the  Hohenrodas  and  they 
spoke  to  her." 

"I  met  the  Graf  in  the  Stadtpark  the  other  day  and 
he  evidently  did  not  know  me  although  Eduard  had 
presented  me  a  few  days  before,"  said  Emma.  "At  any 
rate  he  did  not  greet  me  although  I  am  sure  he  saw  me." 

"How  can  you  be  sure?"  said  Eduard.  "Hohenroda 
is  very  proud,  but  he  has  perfect  manners." 

"I  was  looking  at  him,"  said  Emma  coyly,  "our  eyes 
met.  He  has  magnetic  eyes." 

"Were  you  very  much  attracted,  Karen  ?"  said  Eugenie. 

"Attracted !"  I  cried,  "attracted  by  that  bearish,  bad- 
tempered  man !  I  thought  him  detestable.  I  never  want 
to  see  him  again." 

"He  will  probably  not  remember  you  if  you  meet," 
said  Emma  snappishly. 


THE  trousseau  was  on  view  in  the  living-room  and 
the  presents  were  in  the  salon.     The  entertain- 
ment on  Polterabend  was  being  given  by  Uncle 
Marcus  and  the  wedding-dinner  and  reception  were  to 
take  place  at  the  Rheinischer  Hof,  the  chief  hotel  of 
Reichenstadt.     Frau  Gutheim  informed  me  of  this  pro- 
gram   next    day    at    breakfast    and    explained    that    a 
daughter's  wedding  was  a  joyful  event  but  troublesome 
and  that  her  nerves  were  all  to  pieces.     She  regretted 


22  THE  DEVIL'S  CRADLE 

that  the  4ining-room  wag  the  only  room  left  to  the 
family  just  now  because  she  knew  that  I  was  used  to 
sit  in  a  salon  all  day.  She  hoped  that  I  was  not  drinking 
coffee  out  of  politnesa  when  I  really  preferred  tea.  No 
sugar!  How  economical  1  The  attention  of  the  family 
was  drawn  to  the  fact  that  I  took  no  sugar  and  that 
I  actually  preferred  rolls  and  butter  to  almond  cake, 
although  the  cake  had  been  made  in  my  honor  with 
Emma's  own  hands.  The  eggs  were  of  the  best  quality. 
I  need  not  be  afraid  to  take  a  second.  A  German  break- 
fast must  seem  painfully  frugal  to  anyone  used  to  a 
heavy  hot  meal  in  the  morning,  but  for  her  pa~t  she 
found  it  lasted  her  very  well  till  ten  o'clock  when  we 
should  all  have  buttered  rolls  and  sausage. 

I  found  these  protestations  and  apologies  tiresome,  but 
I  supposed  they  were  the  custom  of  the  country  and  I 
did  not  let  them  spoil  my  pleasure  in  being  for  the  first 
time  with  foreign  folk  in  a  foreign  town.  The  food 
was  good,  the  room  was  sunny,  my  hosts  were  friendly 
and  everything  looked  a  little  different  from  what  it 
did  at  home. 

There  were  no  flowers  on  the  table,  but  there  were 
large  well-kept  palms  and  India-rubber  plants  in  pots 
near  some  of  the  windows ;  there  was  the  porcelain  stove 
instead  of  the  open  fireplace;  and  there  were  embroid- 
eries of  all  kinds  everywhere.  The  seats  and  backs  of 
some  chairs  were  embroidered  and  so  were  the  footstools ; 
so  was  a  newspaper  rack,  a  pipe-rack,  a  cigar-box,  photo- 
graph frames  and  moral  sayings  hung  in  conspicuous 
places.  Eugenie  told  me  later  that  Eduard  and  she  did 
not  mean  to  decorate  their  flat  in  this  way,  but  that 
Mamma  had  old-fashioned  ideas. 

"The   world  does   not   stand    still,"    she   said.     "My 


THE  DEVIL'S  CRADLE  23 

mother  wants  me  to  have  everything  as  she  had  it  at 
the  time  of  her  marriage;  but  that  is  absurd.  We  have 
had  terrible  scenes,  but  luckily  Eduard  supported  me.  He 
has  great  courage.  He  told  Mamma  plainly  that  if  she 
insisted  on  buying  furniture  that  pleased  her  and  not 
him  he  would  go  back  on  our  engagement.  He  is  highly 
artistic  and  he  said  it  would  shatter  his  soul  to  possess 
chairs  and  tables  he  could  not  admire.  That  brought 
Mamma  to  reason :  that  and  the  sight  of  my  tears  which 
flowed  unceasingly  day  and  night." 

"But  why  didn't  Eduard  buy  his  own  furitnure?"  I 
asked,  for  in  some  ways  Eugenie's  narrative  puzzled  me. 

"My  father  buys  all  the  furniture  and  linen  and  most 
of  the  silver,"  she  explained. 

"As  well  as  your  clothes !  And  gives  you  a  big  dowry, 
too.  Then  what  does  Eduard  bring  to  the  menage  ?" 

"Himself !    For  me,  it  is  enough.    I  am  not  mercenary." 

But  I  knew  Eugenie  well  enough  to  know  that  when 
she  concluded  a  deal  even  if  it  was  a  matrimonial  one, 
she  would  not  expect  to  lose  by  it;  and  I  had  gathered 
from  her  talk  at  school  that  in  Germany  a  girl  of  Jewish 
birth  often  marries  an  impecunious  officer  in  order  to 
get  a  footing  in  army  society.  It  seemed  to  me  that  the 
parent  Gutheims  were  buying  this  privilege  for  their 
daughter  at  a  high  price  and  I  doubted  whether  the  he- 
parent  was  as  pleased  with  his  bargain  as  his  wife  and 
daughter  were.  Herr  Gutheim  was  as  ugly  as  one  of 
Du  Maurier's  nightmares,  but  his  eyes  twinkled  with  in- 
telligence. I  was  soon  convinced  that  he  took  his  future 
son-in-law's  measure  and  saw  him  for  what  he  was,  a 
little  coxcomb  but  harmless  and  likely  to  be  wax  in  the 
hands  of  his  wife.  For  Eugenie  had  her  mother's 
temper  and  let  it  loose  on  the  smallest  provocation.  At 


24  THE  DEVIL'S  CRADLE 

school  we  had  soon  found  that  she  took  offense  about 
nothing  and  either  sulked  or  dissolved  in  tears;  but  on 
one  occasion  her  whole  body  had  trembled  with  fury 
and  we  had  been  rather  disgusted  by  the  exhibition  she 
made  of  herself.  I  had  never  had  a  quarrel  with  her 
and  when  I  accepted  her  invitation  I  remembered  her 
agreeable  side  and  hoped  for  the  best.  But  before  I 
had  been  under  the  roof  twenty-four  hours  I  knew  that 
her  home  atmosphere  had  elements  of  storm  in  it  that 
were  easily  brought  into  action  and  easily  stilled.  In 
England  quarrels  are  rather  serious  and  leave  trouble 
behind.  In  the  Neuestrasse  quarreling  seemed  to  be 
an  ordinary  mode  of  intercourse  and  without  any  effect 
on  the  family  affections.  Anyone  who  has  seen  "Potash 
and  Perlmutter"  will  "have  some  idea  of  the  state  of 
things  there.  I  found  such  violent  squabbles  puzzling 
and  distressing  until  I  perceived  that  the  principal  parties 
were  not  really  much  upset  by  them,  although  they  con- 
stantly referred  to  the  failing  conditions  of  their  hearts 
and  nerves.  The  worst  of  it  was  that  the  mother  and 
daughters  all  took  me  into  their  confidence  and  expected 
my  sympathy.  Eugenie  told  me  more  than  once  that 
the  flat  had  been  in  an  uproar  ever  since  she  got  engaged 
and  that  the  scenes  over  the  trousseau  had  marred  her 
pleasure  in  it.  Mamma  had  such  antiquated  ideas  and 
was  so  much  less  inclined  than  other  Mammas  to  profit 
by  the  experience  and  knowledge  of  the  young.  One 
dreadful  episode  remained  in  Eugenie's  memory  when 
a  flimsy  garment  had  literally  been  torn  asunder  in  their 
hands  because  Eugenie  vowed  she  would  have  it  and 
Mamma  screamed  at  her  that  she  should  not:  in  a  big 
shop,  too,  so  that  strangers  had  stared  and  sniggered. 
But  Mamma  .was  known  to  be  a  hot-head  and  everyone 


THE  DEVIL'S  CRADLE  25 

forgave  her  because  she  was  so  efficient  and  such  an 
admirable  housekeeper.  There  was  always  a  row  when 
she  preserved  her  apricots,  but  no  one  else  had  such  good 
ones  or  such  plenty;  and  so  her  family  bore  with  her. 
Eugenie  understood  Mamma  because  she  had  the  same 
temperament,  but  just  on  that  account  they  did  not  live 
comfortably  together.  Emma  was  more  pliable,  but  lately 
Emma  had  shown  herself  rather  silly.  She  was  working 
herself  into  a  frenzy  over  Graf  Wolfram  v.  Hohenroda 
who  would  never  look  at  her. 

I  was  going  to  ask  more  about  that,  but  just  then  Frau 
Gutheim  took  me  to  see  her  kitchen  and  when  we  got 
there  said  she  deeply  regretted  having  sent  Eugenie  to 
an  English  school  because  she  had  come  back  full  of 
ideas  that  were  in  the  highest  degree  exaggerated  and 
unpatriotic.  She  actually  pretended  that  silver  was  bet- 
ter polished  in  England  than  in  Germany  and  she  had 
given  mortal  offense  to  a  wealthy  and  childless  aunt  by 
saying  that  her  friend  Karen  kept  house  without  any 
fuss  and  that  her  menage  was  more  comfortable  than 
a  German  one. 

"Her  aunt  is  very  excitable  and  quarrels  with  her 
servants  from  morning  till  night,  but  she  is  a  magnificent 
housekeeper,"  said  Frau  Gutheim. 

I  would  rather  have  a  dinner  of  herbs  where  love 
is  than  a  stalled  ox  and  hatred  therewith,  but  I  didn't 
say  so  because  I  was  afraid  Frau  Gutheim  would  get 
excited  if  I  disagreed  with  her.  So  I  murmured  some- 
thing inane  about  every  country  having  its  own  ways 
that  I  hoped  would  be  sedative  and  non-committal.  But 
if  Frau  Gutheim  wanted  a  flare-up  she  would  have  one, 
with  anybody  and  on  any  pretext. 

"Of  course  every  country  has  its  own  ways,"  she  cried. 


26  THE  DEVIL'S  CRADLE 

"That  is  what  I  am  trying  to  point  out  to  you.  German 
housekeepers  are  the  finest  in  the  world.  No  one  can 
deny  it.  They  require  no  advice  or  assistance  from 
English  women,  who  know  nothing  whatever." 

I  looked  at  Emma  with  gratitude,  for  she  created  a 
diversion  just  then  by  coming  in  to  us  with  her  hand 
pressed  to  her  heart  and  her  face  white  with  emotion. 

"He  is  in  Reichenstadt,"  she  exclaimed.  "I  have  just 
seen  him.  He  is  not  at  Hohenroda.  He  is  probably 
staying  here  for  the  wedding.  He  will  be  present  to- 
morrow night.  I  shall  hear  his  voice.  I  may  touch  his 
hand.  If  he  invites  me  to  dance  I  shall  swoon." 

"Stupid  goose,"  said  Frau  Gutheim  and  waddled  away. 

"Mamma  is  a  pearl  amongst  women,"  said  Emma,  turn- 
ing her  eyes  heavenwards,  "but  she  is  not  sympathetic 
with  youth.  Yet  I  suppose  she  was  once  in  love  with 
my  father  and  idealized  him.  I  must  ask  her." 

At  that  moment  Frau  Gutheim  returned,  evidently  in 
a  hurry  and  saying  something  about  her  keys  and  the 
provoking  stupidity  of  people  who  borrowed  them  and 
did  not  give  them  back. 

"Tell  me,  Mamma,"  piped  Emma,  "when  you  married 
Papa  did  you  not  love  him?" 

"Where  are  my  keys  ?"  snapped  Frau  Gutheim.  "You 
had  them  last." 

"If  you  had  seen  him  pass  your  door  would  your 
heart  not  have  beaten  faster?  Would  you  not  have 
agonized  and  rejoiced  at  the  thought  of  meeting  him? 
Tell  me  what  you  said  when  you  first  saw  him?" 

"I  said  nothing  would  induce  me  to  marry  that  ugly 
little  man.  So  now  you  know,"  answered  Emma's 
mother.  "And  your  father  had  his  doubts,  too.  He 
thought  as  a  young  man  that  he  could  never  make  himself 


THE  DEVIL'S  CRADLE  27 

happy  with  a  woman  who  would  become  stout  and  heavy. 
No  doubt  we  were  fools:  but  we  were  never  such  fools 
as  you.  What  have  you  done  with  my  keys  ?" 


VI 


EVENTUALLY  Frau  Gutheim's  keys  were  discov- 
ered in  her  own  petticoat  pocket,  but  not  before 
Emma  and  the  parlor-maid  had  been  reduced  to 
tears.  The  parlor-maid  wore  a  navy-blue  skirt,  a  checked 
apron  and  a  tartan  blouse,  open  at  the  neck  and  fastened 
with  an  eighteen-penny  diamond  brooch  so  she  was  not 
exactly  smart;  but  she  did  not  seem  to  mind  being 
called  a  sheep's  head  by  her  irate  mistress,  nor  did  she 
bridle  and  give  notice  when  she  was  accused  of  stealing 
the  keys  in  order  to  get  into  the  store-room.  She  only 
wept  copiously  and  noisily  and  talked  about  her  service- 
book  in  which  anyone,  the  English  lady,  for  instance, 
could  satisfy  herself  that  Anna  Schmidt  had  always  had 
a  character  for  perfect  honesty. 

"What  does  she  mean  by  her  service-book?"  I  said 
to  Eugenie,  who  had  come  to  take  me  into  the  room 
where  her  trousseau  and  wedding  presents  were  on  view, 
but  had  lingered  to  join  in  the  fray. 

"Every  servant  in  Germany  has  one,"  Eugenie  ex- 
plained. "They  are  all  under  police  supervision  and  have 
to  produce  their  books  on  demand.  If  they  lose  them 
they  are  fined  or  imprisoned.  The  book  contains  a  full 
description  of  a  servant's  appearance  and  family  cir- 
cumstances and  his  or  her  character  signed  by  each 
successive  employer." 

"Then  if  a  girl  behaved  badly  on  one  occasion  and 


28  THE  DEVIL'S  CRADLE 

it  was  recorded  in  her  book  she  could  never  live  it 
down." 

"Never,"  said  Eugenie  complacently. 

"It  doesn't  seem  fair." 

"It's  convenient  and  it  gives  employers  a  hold." 

My  sympathies  were  all  with  the  girl  although  she 
wore  a  tartan  blouse,  had  the  national  mouth  and  roared 
in  an  abandoned  way.  But  I  was  glad  to  get  out  of 
the  room  with  Eugenie  and  while  we  were  looking  at 
her  clothes  Emma  came  in  and  told  us  the  keys  were 
found  and  that  Mamma  was  quiet  again.  I  had  not 
been  twenty-four  hours  in  the  flat  yet,  but  I  had  begun 
to  think  already  that  Papa  had  the  best  of  it  because 
he  was  mostly  at  home  at  night  when  Mamma  was  pre- 
sumably asleep.  Her  waking  hours  seemed  to  be  too 
tempestuous  for  family  comfort. 

"But  where  is  your  linen?"  I  said  to  Eugenie  when 
I  had  examined  and  admired  the  rest  of  her  wardrobe, 
which  was  handsome,  but  on  the  whole  heavy.  "It  is 
the  linen  I  want  to  see.  I  have  always  heard  that  Ger- 
man brides  have  quantities  of  it." 

"It  is  on  view  at  the  shop  where  it  was  bought,"  said 
Eugenie.  "We  will  go  there." 

"How  prosaic!" 

"But  how  practical !  My  great-grandmother  spun  her 
own.  We  still  have  some  of  it.  My  grandmother  and 
mother  made  up  their  own  and  embroidered  all  the 
monograms.  Months  they  must  have  worked  at  it.  I 
went  to  Lange's  and  ordered  everything  in  a  few  hours. 
German  girls  used  to  begin  to  fill  their  linen-chest  when 
they  were  confirmed,  but  no  one  does  that  nowadays. 
We  want  to  amuse  ourselves  while  we  are  young." 

"Tell  me,  Karen,"  said  Emma  at  this  moment,  "am 


THE  DEVIL'S  CRADLE  29 

I  better-looking  that  Eugenie  or  is  she  better-looking 
than  me?" 

"I  can  answer  that,"  volunteered  Eugenie.  "I  am 
better-looking  that  you,  of  course.  You  have  a  fine 
color  and  a  good  head  of  hair,  but  your  profile  is  worth 
nothing.  You  will  be  the  image  of  Aunt  Rosalie  in  a 
few  years." 

"Eugenie!"  shrieked  Emma  and  I  thought  there  was 
going  to  be  a  family  row  again. 

"It  is  of  no  consequence,"  Eugenie  continued.  "You 
have  good  looks  enough  to  make  a  good  parti  consider- 
ing what  Papa  can  do  for  us.  We  are  neither  of  us 
much  to  look  at  compared  with  Karen.  Mamma  is  quite 
annoyed  because  I  had  not  told  her  that  you  were  of 
a  dazzling  beauty,  Karen.  I  explained  to  her  that  I  did 
not  know  it  myself.  In  your  school  uniform  one  saw 
that  you  had  long  arms  and  legs  and  unusual  eyes,  but 
now  ..." 

Eugenie  blew  me  a  little  kiss  and  Emma  stared  at  me 
sulkily. 

"But  what  is  your  mother  annoyed  about?"  I  asked. 

"Emma,  shall  I  tell  Karen  about  Oscar  Strauss?" 

"It  is  all  the  same  to  me,"  said  Emma  sulkily.  "I 
take  no  interest  whatever  in  Oscar  Strauss.  He  leaves 
me  cold." 

Eugenie  made  a  grimace  at  me  that  her  sister  must 
have  seen  and  understood  as  well  as  I  did.  It  meant 
that  the  subject  would  be  resumed  later  when  we  were 
by  ourselves.  She  had  once  described  herself  at  school 
as  a  person  of  "enormous  tact,"  a  phrase  that  remained 
in  our  minds  because  we  all  thought  that,  however  much 
she  possessed,  she  failed  to  show  a  vestige  of  it.  I  was 
not  surprised  when  we  were  left  by  ourselves  almost  at 


30  THE  DEVIL'S  CRADLE 

once  as  Emma  flounced  out  of  the  room,  saying  that  she 
did  not  wish  to  incommode  us  and  that  sisterly  affection 
was  at  a  low  ebb  when  a  stranger  ...  I  did  not  hear 
the  end  of  the  sentence.  Perhaps  Emma's  emotions  im- 
peded her  speech. 

"My  mother  and  sister  are  the  noblest  and  finest 
natures  in  the  world,"  said  Eugenie  in  a  voice  that  made 
me  long  to  shake  her  because  it  was  so  charged  with 
feeling.  "They  have  only  one  fault.  They  are  both 
insanely  jealous." 

The  last  thing  I  wanted  to  do  was  to  discuss  Eugenie's 
relatives  with  her.  I  hardly  knew  them  and  I  was  their 
guest.  So  I  said:  "Really!"  or  something  equally  dull 
and  asked  if  I  might  look  at  her  presents  now  that  I 
had  seen  her  clothes. 

"We  are  all  a  little  anxious  about  Emma  at  present," 
continued  Eugenie  without  taking  any  notice  of  my  re- 
quest. "Her  character  is  not  as  firm  as  mine.  She  is 
highly  sensitive.  Unfortunately  about  a  month  ago  she 
was  in  the  post-office  buying  some  stamps  and  dropped 
her  umbrella.  It  might  happen  to  anyone.  But  Graf 
Wolfram  v.  Hohenroda  was  there  at  the  same  moment, 
picked  it  up,  presented  it  to  her  and  as  she  says,  looked 
at  her  in  a  way  she  cannot  forget.  The  action  was  cer- 
tainly that  of  a  gentleman,  but  he  should  not  have  looked 
at  her.  It  has  had  the  most  serious  results." 

"But  who  is  Oscar  Strauss?"  I  asked. 

"He  is  the  young  man  we  all  wish  her  to  marry," 
explained  Eugenie.  "Certainly  he  is  not  an  officer  like 
my  Eduard,  but  every  girl  in  Germany  cannot  expect  to 
marry  an  officer.  The  civilians  want  wives,  too.  Oscar 
is  very  well  off,  singularly  handsome  ?uid  highly  gifted. 


THE  DEVIL'S  CRADLE  31 

I  should  be  more  than  satisfied  with  him  as  a  brother- 
in-law." 

"But  does  he  ...  does  Emma  .  .  ."I  stammered. 
"They  do,"  replied  Eugenie  promptly,  "or  rather  they 
did  before  the  unhappy  affair  with  Hohenroda.  A  month 
ago  Emma  came  to  me  in  the  highest  state  of  excitement 
and  maidenly  confusion  and  told  me  that  Oscar  had  as 
good  as  declared  himself.  He  had  sung  'Du  bist  wie 
eine  Blume'  and  had  never  removed  his  eyes  from  her 
face.  She  almost  expected  him  to  call  on  Papa  next 
day." 

I  said  "Really"  again.  Luckily  Eugenie  did  not  want 
me  to  say  much.  She  was  putting  me  au  courant  of  the 
family  affairs  and  would  only  have  been  annoyed  by 
interruptions. 

"We  knew  what  this  meant,"  she  continued  when  she 
had  taken  breath.    "Last  Christmas  he  was  in  love  with 
Emma's  bosom  friend,  Jenny  Cassell,  and  she  told  Emma 
that  Oscar  had  sung  'Du  bist  wie  eine  Blume'  at  their 
house  at  Sylvester  and  had  fixed  his  eyes  on  her  with 
an  intensity  that  caused  her  to  blush." 
"Did  he  transfer  his  affections  then?" 
"He  did.    Emma  is  very  attractive  to  men." 
This  was  hard  to  believe,  but  naturally  I  did  not  say 
so.     Besides  I  had  only  been  a  few  hours  in  Germany 
and  could  not  know  what  German  men  admired.     Per- 
haps they  liked  a  parroty  profile. 

"Now  you  will  understand  why  my  mother  was  a  little 
upset  when  she  saw  you,"  Eugenie  went  on.  "I  am 
sure  she  will  get  over  it  and  like  you  immensely.  I  can 
see  that  my  father  does  already  and  you  have  made  an 
excellent  impression  on  Eduard." 
"I'm  glad  of  that,"  I  said. 


32  JHE  DEVIL'S  CRADLE 


VII 

WHEN  we  had  looked  at  the  presents,  which  were 
numerous  and  costly,  we  went  out  for  a  walk : 
my  first  walk  in  a  German  town.  Eugenie 
took  me  through  the  Stadtpark  and  then  back  to  the  main 
street  where  there  were  handsome  shops  and  crowds  of 
people.  It  is  difficult  to  recall  those  first  impressions  of 
a  country  I  know  so  well  now.  I  seem  chiefly  to  re- 
member insignificant  details  such  as  the  lettering  over  the 
shops,  which  reminded  me  of  the  lettering  over  old 
nursery  toys;  the  shiny  hats  worn  by  the  taxi-drivers, 
trees  in  the  street  and  everywhere  the  blue-gray  uniforms. 

When  we  got  to  Lange's  we  found  that  Frau  Gut- 
heim  and  Emma  were  there,  too,  and  that  they  were 
talking  to  an  elderly  woman  and  girl  who  stared  hard 
at  me  when  I  was  presented  to  them  and  then  resumed 
their  conversation  with  Frau  Gutheim.  I  understood 
from  Eugenie  that  they  were  Frau  Cassell  and  her 
daughter  Jenny  and  that  they  were  especially  interested 
in  trousseaux  because  Jenny  had  just  become  engaged 
to  a  Herr  Veist  and  was  about  to  order  her  own. 

"Then  she  didn't  mind  being  deserted  by  Herr 
Strauss  ?"  I  whispered.  Eugenie  shrugged  her  shoulders. 

"Why  should  she  mind?  She  has  done  very  well  for 
herself  or  rather  her  parents  have  done  well  for  her. 
She  is  making  an  excellent  match." 

We  were  in  a  big  room  on  the  first  floor  and  as  we 
talked  we  looked  at  Eugenie's  things.  There  were  a 
great  many  and  they  were  all  of  the  finest  quality.  I 
thought  her  father's  purse  must  be  as  deep  as  a  well 


THE  DEVIL'S  CRADLE  33 

and  as  broad  as  a  church  door,  but  she  said  that  Jenny 
Cassell  meant  to  have  more  still.  I  was  interested  in 
various  little  embroidered  bags  and  holders  that  I  had 
to  have  explained  to  me.  Some  were  to  come  between 
saucepan-handles  and  Eugenie's  hands  when  she  went 
into  her  kitchen  and  cooked  for  her  man:  as  she  fully 
intended  to  at  times.  One  was  to  hang  outside  the  door 
every  night  and  receive  the  morning  rolls.  Others  were 
for  hidden  dusters.  There  were  cushion  covers,  too,  of 
fine  embroidered  lawn  and  tea-cloths  from  a  school  of 
needlework  in  Munich. 

"But  there  is  a  limit  to  everything,"  I  heard  Frau 
Gutheim  say  to  Frau  Cassell.  "Eugenie  wanted  to  have 
pink  crepe-de-Chine  nightgowns  trimmed  with  real  lace. 
To  that  I  would  not  give  my  consent.  I  have  seen  them 
and  I  do  not  consider  them  respectable.  One  white  one 
if  your  heart  is  set  on  it,  I  said:  but  pink!  You  are 
not  going  to  play  the  part  of  the  erring  wife  in  a  French 
drama,  I  hope.  A  certain  luxury  is  seemly  in  those  who 
can  afford  it,  and  encourages  trade.  But  we  must  never 
forget  that  we  are  Germans.  In  my  opinion  pink  night- 
gowns do  not  go  well  with  the  national  character." 

I  had  to  turn  away  or  I  might  have  giggled;  and  I 
turned  towards  a  big  plate  glass  window  from  which 
Emma  and  Jenny  Cassell  were  watching  a  music  shop 
on  the  street.  Eugenie  joined  us  there,  but  the  two 
matrons  went  on  talking  about  pink  nightgowns  and  the 
scandalous  impropriety  of  the  present  age.  You  could 
see  by  the  horrified  expression  of  their  faces  that  they 
were  enjoying  themselves. 

"Gauze,  I  tell  you  .  .  .  mere  gauze,"  muttered  Frau 
Gutheim.  At  the  same  moment  Eugenie  drew  my  atten- 
tion to  a  young  man  near  the  music  shop,  saying,  "That 


34  THE  DEVIL'S  CRADLE 

is  Oscar  Strauss,"  while  Emma  and  Jenny  startled  us 
all,  by  screaming  simultaneously:     "There  he  comes!" 

"Is  the  All  Highest  in  Reichenstadt  then  that  you  are 
so  excited  ?"  said  Frau  Gutheim,  tramping  to  the  window 
and  looking  out  of  it.  "Right!  The  Hohenroda!  I 
thought  as  much.  Now  we  have  all  seen  something  and 
can  go  home  to  dinner.  Otherwise  I  behold  no  one  but 
Oscar  Strauss  in  his  new  English  suit  and  very  tasteless 
it  is.  I  feel  sure  that  if  I  crossed  the  Channel  on  a  rough 
day  and  arrived  in  a  country  where  all  the  men  wore 
checks  of  that  size  and  those  colors  I  should  be  bilious 
for  the  rest  of  my  visit.  But  I  have  never  been  to  Eng- 
land because  there  is  nothing  to  see  there." 

"Why  don't  you  tell  your  mother  that  Englishmen 
don't  dress  like  that  except  for  a  comic  turn  in  the  halls?" 
I  said  to  Eugenie. 

"She  wouldn't  believe  me.     She  has  her  own  ideas." 

"But  she  has  never  been  to  England." 

"That  only  makes  her  more  positive.  Oscar  has  never 
been  to  England  either.  He  asked  me  what  I  thought 
of  this  suit  and  I  told  him.  I  am  one  who  speaks  my 
mind.  We  were  not  on  nodding  terms  for  a  week.  But 
he  came  round.  He  is  quite  a  nice  little  man  and  sings 
like  an  angel.  How  heavenly  it  would  be  if  Emma  and 
he  became  verlobt  while  you  were  here.  Everyone  would 
invite  them  and  you  would  be  invited,  too." 

"But  Emma  does  not  seem  much  interested  in  him," 
I  said.  "Look  at  her  now.  Is  she  quite  well  ?" 

Emma  was  craning  her  thin  neck  towards  the  window 
until  her  face  actually  touched  the  pane,  her  eyes  were 
rapturously  gazing  out  of  it  and  her  mouth  had  fallen 
open.  The  usual  vacant  silliness  of  her  profile  was  ac- 


THE  DEVIL'S  CRADLE  35 

centuated  and  I  was  not  surprised  to  hear  Frau  Gutheim 
say  in  an  aside  to  her  daughter : 

"Did  you  ever  see  the  like?  Such  a  fool!  Does  she 
flatter  herself  that  the  Hohenroda  will  ever  look  at  her? 
He!  so  aristocratic  and  so  anti-S emit !" 

But  Emma  said  in  a  voice  of  crooning  ecstasy :  "Twice 
to-day!  A  golden  day!" 

She  then  turned  from  the  window  and  with  the  air 
of  one  delivering  an  ultimatum  said  to  Eugenie: 

"I  am  going  to  stand  where  he  stood.  Will  you  come 
with  me?" 

"Not  till  this  afternoon,"  said  Eugenie. 

"At  once!" 

"Certainly  not.    Eduard  would  consider  it  unmaidenly." 

"I'll  come  with  you,"  I  said,  for  Emma  got  so  red  in 
the  face  that  she  resembled  her  mother  and  I  thought 
there  was  going  to  be  a  scene. 

"You  cannot  do  that,"  said  Eugenie  sharply;  and  ap- 
pealed to  her  mother. 

"Mamma !  Emma  wants  to  go  into  Netter's  now  and 
take  Karen  with  her.  It  must  not  be  allowed." 

"Unheard  of!"  snapped  Frau  Gutheim  and  both  the 
matrons  looked  at  me  severely  while  Jenny  sniggered. 

"But  I  want  to  buy  some  German  songs,"  I  said. 

"Young  girls  do  not  go  to  Netter's  between  12  and  2, 
or  even  walk  on  that  side  of  the  street,"  explained 
Eugenie.  "Only  gentlemen  go  during  those  hours  and 
perhaps  actresses.  You  must  remember  this  when  I  am 
gone  for  Emma  is  in  such  a  state  of  Schwarmerei  that 
she  is  reckless." 

"What  would  happen  if  I  went  in  now?" 

"Nothing.  People  would  see  that  you  are  a  foreigner. 
But  if  Emma  went  it  would  be  all  over  the  town  and 


36  THE  DEVIL'S  CRADLE 

Oscar  Strauss  would  no  longer  think  of  her.    That  would 
be  a  tragedy." 

I  gave  in  of  course:  for  who  was  I  to  set  myself 
against  the  rigorous  etiquette  of  Reichenstadt ;  and 
Emma  gave  in  because  I  firmly  believe  that  her  mother 
would  have  boxed  her  ears  if  she  had  taken  a  step  in 
the  wrong  direction — and  not  for  the  first  time  either. 
Frau  Gutheim  was  a  tiresome  woman  in  some  ways,  but 
her  determination  in  dealing  with  a  goose  like  Emma 
was  refreshing.  The  trouble  was  that  she  had  always 
spoiled  the  girl  because  she  believed  her  to  be  delicate 
and  still  wavered  between  anxiety  about  her  health  and 
impatience  with  her  follies. 

Some  of  this  I  guessed  and  some  of  it  Eugenie  told 
me  as  we  walked  home  together.  We  left  the  others 
talking  to  Oscar  Strauss  in  the  street.  He  had  been 
presented  to  me,  and  Eugenie  had  told  him  that  I  was 
to  sing  at  her  Polterabend  to-morrow  and  that  he  was 
to  accompany  me.  They  both  seemed  to  take  this  as 
a  joke  for  some  unexplained  reason  and  Herr  Strauss 
said  that  he  hoped  the  accompaniment  would  not  be  too 
difficult  for  him.  I  said  it  would  be  quite  easy  and  that 
made  them  laugh  outright.  I  must  say  that  I  do  not 
like  German  manners.  The  young  man  never  took  his 
eyes  off  me  while  we  stood  together,  and  remembering 
what  Eugenie  had  told  me,  I  began  to  think  that  he  would 
burst  out  with  "Du  bist  wie  eine  Blume"  then  and  there, 
on  the  pavement.  So  I  reminded  her  that  I  wanted  to 
see  the  fruit-  and  flower-market  and  we  made  away. 


THE  DEVIL'S  CRADLE  37 


VIII 

EUGENIE  told  me  that  compared  with  Uncle 
Marcus  her  father  was  a  poor  man  and  that 
the  entertainment  given  by  her  uncle  the  night 
before  her  wedding  would  be  everything  she  could  de- 
sire. She  called  it  her  Polterabend.  A  Poltergeist  is  a 
noisy  kind  of  hobgoblin  and  in  older  times  on  the  night 
before  a  wedding  the  friends  of  a  German  bride  used  to 
gather  outside  her  door  and  smash  crockery  against  it. 
The  idea  was  to  keep  evil  spirits  away.  But  now  that 
Germans  no  longer  believe  in  spirits  they  have  given  up 
the  rite  or  rather  they  leave  it  to  the  lower  classes.  A 
Polterabend  is  still  observed  with  ceremony  but  not  with 
broken  glass  and  china,  and  Eugenie's  uncle  was  giving 
a  variety  of  entertainment  of  music,  dancing  and  recita- 
tions. The  recitations  were  all  to  be  home-made  and 
topical.  Eugenie  read  them  to  me  beforehand  and  ex- 
plained the  family  allusions,  some  of  which  were  touching 
and  some  facetious.  They  were  printed  in  an  elaborate 
booklet  containing  portraits  of  the  bride  and  bridegroom 
and  their  families,  a  program  of  events  and  a  menu 
of  the  supper  and  the  wine. 

My  name  was  down  for  a  song  and  I  found  that  Oscar 
Strauss  was  to  accompany  me.  Eugenie  said  it  was 
not  necessary  for  us  to  try  it  over  beforehand  because 
he  was  such  an  accomplished  musician  that  he  could 
play  the  most  difficult  accompaniment  at  sight  better  than 
other  people  after  practice.  But  when  I  went  to  Lange's 
in  the  afternoon  and  bought  Schumann's  Fruhlings- 
nacht  she  changed  her  note  a  little  and  said  he  hoped  he 
would  be  able  to  manage  it. 


38  THE  DEVIL'S  CRADLE 

However,  I  explained  that  I  was  not  going  to  sing  a 
German  song  to  a  German  audience.  She  agreed  that  my 
accent  was  not  all  it  should  be  and  she  seemed  to  have 
doubts  about  my  style:  for  all  her  friends  and  relations 
were  extraordinarily  critical  and  artistic.  I  said  that 
I  did  not  particularly  wish  to  sing  and  that  she  could 
strike  my  name  out  of  the  program  without  hurting 
my  feelings.  But  she  refused  to  do  that  because,  she 
said,  the  very  idea  of  an  English  amateur  standing  up 
to  sing  an  English  song  to  Germans  was  amusing;  and 
she  was  sure  everyone  would  be  in  an  amiable  mood  and 
listen  kindly.  In  fact  her  tone  showed  her  enormous  tact 
to  such  a  degree  that  I  got  annoyed  with  her,  as  we 
used  to  do  at  school,  and  I  refused  to  tell  her  the  name 
of  the  song  I  meant  to  sing.  We  spent  the  rest  of  that 
day  and  most  of  the  next  in  packing  her  clothes  and 
tearing  to  the  station  to  meet  various  von  Gosens  and 
Gutheims  who  were  coming  to  the  wedding.  Anyone 
could  see  that  the  two  strains  did  not  mix  well.  The 
von  Gosens  were  poor  and  frumpish,  gave  themselves 
airs  and  in  my  hearing  uttered  asides  about  Juden.  The 
Gutheims  were  evidently  moneyed  people  and  most  of 
them  seemed  to  be  brainy  and  more  civilized  than 
Eugenie's  mother.  I  liked  them.  They  evidently  thought, 
as  I  did,  that  Eugenie's  little  lieutenant  was  no  such 
matter  and  that  she  would  have  done  better  for  herself 
if  she  had  married  a  prosperous  man  of  her  own  race. 
But  they  brought  her  handsome  presents  and  appeared 
at  her  Polterabend  wearing  the  jewels  of  Golconda  on 
their  necks  and  in  their  hair.  One  of  the  women  had 
a  diamond  bird  as  big  as  a  thrush  perched  on  her  raven 
locks  and  I  heard  an  acidulated  von  Go'sen  spinster 
whisper  that  a  bird  of  that  kind  was  truly  Jewish.  Poor 


THE  DEVIL'S  CRADLE  39 

thing !  She  looked  as  if  one  of  the  stones  in  the  bird's 
tail  would  have  fed  her  for  a  year  and  done  her  good. 

Eugenie  wore  brocade  of  a  hard  blue  that  did  not 
become  her.  Emma  was  in  virgin  white,  and  Frau 
Gutheim  had  squeezed  herself  into  a  plum-colored  velvet 
that  must  have  been  of  the  best  quality  to  bear  the 
strain.  I  drove  to  the  party  in  a  cloak  like  Monna 
Vanna's  that  shrouded  me  completely  and  just  to  tease 
them  I  would  not  tell  them  what  I  had  on. 

"Your  shoes  are  the  .color  of  flames,"  said  Emma. 
Then  she  looked  at  my  hair.  A  friseur  had  been  at 
the  house  to  do  the  family  hair,  but  I  had  refused  his 
services:  I  was  glad  I  had  when  I  saw  their  unnatural 
heads. 

"You  do  your  hair  very  plainly,  but  it  looks  chic" 
Emma  went  on.  "It  is  a  curious  color.  I  suppose  you 
call  it  black,  but  there  are  bronze  lights  in  it.  You  have 
a  great  deal.  Isn't  that  very  unusual  in  England?" 

We  arrived  at  the  house  before  I  had  time  to  answer 
and  the  moment  we  entered  it  I  saw  Graf  Wolfram 
v.  Hohenroda,  who  must  have  arrived  just  before  us. 
Eduard  von  Gosen  was  there,  too,  and  the  host  and 
hostess,  who  were  welcoming  the  Graf  with  the  greatest 
empressewent.  A  maid  took  our  cloaks  and  as  mine  fell 
from  me  I  knew  that  I  had  made  an  effect. 

"Fire  .  .  .  the  color  of  fire!  How  strange  a  choice 
for  a  young  girl !"  murmured  Frau  Gutheim  with  doubt- 
ful approval. 

"The  color  of  those  deep  red  nasturtiums  that  you 
love,"  said  Eugenie,  also  eying  me.  "You  said  you 
would  wear  it  some  day." 

"Chiffon!"  said  Emma,  fingering  it  in  a  manner  I 
thought  particularly  ill  bred.  "Layers  of  chiffon!  You 


40  THE  DEVIL'S  CRADLE 

must  have  paid  a  great  deal  for  it,  Karen,  or  did  your 
maid  run  it  up  ?" 

I  would  not  tell  her.  I'm  not  cattish  about  my  clothes 
as  a  rule,  but  Emma's  way  of  touching  everything  I  wore 
and  trying  to  find  out  what  I  had  paid  for  it  annoyed 
me.  In  fact  I  was  beginning  to  think  already  that  I 
should  not  be  able  to  stand  a  whole  month  of  Emma. 
I  had  been  invited  for  at  least  a  month  in  Eugenie's 
letter. 

Directly  Graf  Wolfram  saw  me  he  bowed  to  me,  but 
for  some  time  he  could  not  escape  from  the  attentions  of 
his  hosts  and  speak  to  me.  Crowds  of  people  were 
arriving,  but  he  remained  a  center  of  attraction  and 
attention.  He  might  have  been  a  German  Lord  Kitchener, 
he  was  so  tall  and  quiet  and  stern-looking.  I'm  sure 
he  hated  the  fuss  made  over  him  and  I  thought  he  treated 
some  of  the  odd-looking  creatures  presented  to  him  with 
scant  courtesy.  Emma  had  managed  to  edge  herself 
near  him  soon  after  we  had  entered  the  salon  and  she 
was  gazing  up  at  him  in  a  way  that  made  me  feel 
ashamed  of  my  sex.  At  last  she  managed  to  catch  his 
eye,  he  greeted  her  stiffly,  she  turned  the  color  of  beet- 
root and  made  him  an  absurdly  deep  curtsey.  He 
turned  his  back  on  her  and  walked  away.  Towards  me ! 
But  I  made  him  no  curtsey.  I  drew  myself  up  rather 
rigidly  and  looked  him  straight  in  the  eyes  without  smile 
or  welcome :  because  I  felt  so  angry  with  Emma. 

"I  have  a  message  to  you  from  my  son,"  he  said. 

I  waited  for  him  to  deliver  it.  My  silence  seemed 
to  disconcert  him  slightly  and  perhaps  he  misunderstood 
it.  At  any  rate  he  turned  to  Eduard  von  Gosen,  who 
was  hovering  near,  and  said,  "Present  me  to  this  lady." 

"My  son  greatly  wishes  to  see  you  again,"  he  began 


THE  DEVIL'S  CRADLE  41 

when  the  introduction  had  been  performed  and  Eduard 
dismissed.  There  was  no  doubt  about  the  dismissal 
either.  Eduard  had  shown  signs  of  lingering  and  had 
been  sent  off  with  a  glance  that  he  had  obeyed  as  a  dog 
obeys  a  blow. 

"Why  do  you  looked  amused  and  surprised?  Why 
do  you  stand  there  so  silent  and  incredulous?"  he  went 
on  in  a  low  tone.  "I  suppose  you  judge  from  what  you 
saw,  and  think  that  my  son's  wishes  could  not  prevail 
unless  they  were  my  wishes,  too." 

His  lowered  tone  and  his  eyes  startled  me  more  than 
his  words. 

"Do  you  visit  with  the  Gutheims  ?"  I  said  primly. 

He  was  so  far  from  prim  and  I  was  so  taken  by  sur- 
prise that  I  just  said  what  came  into  my  head.  It 
annoyed  him  evidently,  but  I  could  not  help  that. 

"I  do  not  visit  with  the  Gutheims,"  he  answered.  "I 
am  here  to-night  because  von  Gosen  is  the  son  of  old 
friends.  But  I  consider  these  mixed  marriages  a  mistake." 

"Most  of  the  Gutheims  seem  to  think  so,  too,"  I  said. 
"I  heard  several  of  them  say  that  Eugenie  might  have 
done  better  for  herself." 

Instead  of  flying  into  a  passion  as  I  expected  he  looked 
straight  into  my  eyes  again  and  smiled.  He  had  won- 
derful eyes,  blue-black  with  fire  in  them  at  times;  and 
when  he  smiled  the  usual  hardness  and  arrogance  of  his 
expression  vanished  for  the  moment. 

"Why  should  we  quarrel?"  he  asked.  "For  my  son's 
sake  I  want  to  make  friends.  He  invites  you  to  Hohen- 
roda." 

I  stared  at  him. 

"So  do  my  mother  and  father,"  he  added  hastily.  "You 
would  be  their  guest." 


42  THE  DEVIL'S  CRADLE 

"But  the  other  day  in  the  train  you  were  downright 
uncivil,"  I  blurted  out. 

He  did  not  deny  it.  He  did  not  apologize.  But  he 
looked  at  me  and  again  I  found  that  his  eyes  had  com- 
pelling fires  in  them.  I  lowered  my  own  before  his 
glances  and  felt  vexed  with  myself  for  doing  so. 


IX 


SOON  after  we  were  all  herded  into  the  big  music- 
room  to  listen  to  the  program  of  music  and 
recitations.  A  small  platform  had  been  put  up 
for  the  occasion  and  on  this  there  was  a  grand  piano. 
There  were  no  rows  of  small  chairs  but  groups  of  all 
sorts  and  sizes,  so  that  you  could  sit  where  you  chose. 
Eugenie  had  told  me  of  this  arrangement  and  said  that 
it  had  been  decided  on  after  much  consideration  because 
if  they  had  small  hired  chairs  everyone  would  have 
wanted  the  front  rows  and  some  would  have  felt  morti- 
fied by  finding  themselves  in  back  ones.  As  it  was  I 
saw  the  host  carefully  conduct  certain  female  von 
Gosens  to  one  sofa,  while  his  wife  settled  the  most  im- 
portant looking  Gutheims  on  another.  Most  people  had 
found  seats  before  I  did  because  I  wasted  time  by 
hovering  somewhere  near  Eugenie  and  then  finding  that 
I  could  not  sit  with  her.  Twin  chairs,  garlanded  with 
roses  were  placed  in  a  conspicuous  position  for  the  bride 
and  bridegroom  and  before  long  Eduard  and  Eugenie 
took  their  places.  Everyone  was  talking  and  laughing 
at  the  top  of  their  voices  and  when  Emma  came  across 
the  room  to  speak  to  me  she  had  to  scream  as  you  do  in 
a  high  wind  before  I  could  hear  her  and  I  had  to  scream 


THE  DEVIL'S  CRADLE  43 

when  I  answered.  We  sat  down  on  a  large  ottoman, 
that  no  one  had  occupied  yet  and  she  put  her  face  close 
to  mine,  a  trick  I  particularly  dislike. 

"Our  dresses  go  well  together,"  she  bawled.  "Oscar 
thinks  yours  is  very  apart,  but  that  not  everyone  would 
wear  it." 

"I  might  say  the  same  about  his  tweeds,"  I  answered. 

Some  way  off  Graf  Wolfram  stood  amongst  a  group 
of  men.  I  saw  that  his  eyes  were  aware  of  me  and  I 
wished  Emma  had  not  glued  herself  to  my  side. 

"We  see  him  very  well  from  here,"  she  simpered. 
"He  spoke  to  you  in  the  other  room.  What  did  he 
say?" 

"He  invited  me  to  Hohenroda,"  I  replied  unwarily. 

I  thought  Emma  would  have  exploded  like  a  rocket 
and  disappear  in  little  stars  of  fury.  She  jumped  back 
as  if  I  had  struck  her  and  said : 

"Those  are  manners  I  cannot  understand.  How  is  it 
possible  to  accept  an  invitation  that  is  not  extended  to 
your  hosts?" 

"I've  not  accepted,"  I  said.    "Don't  worry !" 

"You've  refused !" 

"No.    I've  not  answered." 

"But  one  must  answer  an  invitation." 

"Must  one?" 

"Ordinary  politeness  ordains  it;  but  perhaps  German 
ideas  about  these  things  are  peculiarly  civilized." 

"Perhaps." 

"Always  secrets.  I  am  open  and  honest.  It  is  our 
good  German  way.  But  you,  dear  Karenchen  .  .  .  first 
your  song  .  .  .  then  your  dress  .  .  .  now  this  most 
unexpected  invitation!  But  perhaps  your  fancy  runs 
away  with  you  .  .  .  perhaps  you  said  you  had  heard 


44  THE  DEVIL'S  CRADLE 

of  the  beauties  of  Hohenroda  .  .  .  yearned  to  see  it 
.  .  .  and  he  in  ordinary  tones  ...  a  gentleman  could 
hardly  do  otherwise  .  .  .  said  he  hoped  you  some  day 
would.  It  is  an  expedition  like  another.  We  can  take 
you  there  if  you  desire  it  and  show  you  what  all  the 
world  can  see  .  .  .  the  castle  from  outside  .  .  . 
strangers  are  not  admitted  when  the  family  is  in  resi- 
dence .  .  .  and  some  parts  of  the  garden  and  the 
forest.  But  perhaps  now  that  his  old  friend  has  married 
my  sister  we  shall  be  invited  there  as  friends,  too,  and 
if  it  should  happen  while  you  are  with  us  I  promise  you 
that  you  shall  accompany  us.  I  would  make  a  point 
of  it." 

I  didn't  have  to  answer  because  someone  now  mounted 
the  platform  and  recited  a  long  poem  all  about  the  Gut- 
heim  family.  The  von  Gosens  looked  down  their  noses 
which  were  small  and  snub  and  the  Gutheims  bridled 
with  delight.  If  the  von  Gosens  were  the  salt  of  the 
earth  as  the  Kaiser  told  them,  the  Gutheims  were  the 
butter  and  the  cheese.  They  looked  like  it,  too,  for  their 
faces  were  fat  with  good  living  and  their  short  stout 
bodies  were  clothed  like  Solomon  in  his  glory.  After 
the  recital  someone  played  a  piano  solo,  then  Herr  Strauss 
sang  two  songs  by  Brahms,  then  there  was  another  home- 
made poem  and  then  a  trio  for  string  instruments.  The 
poems  were  bosh,  but  the  music  was  good.  Nevertheless, 
when  Emma  screamed  into  my  ears  that  she  supposed 
I  had  never  heard  anything  like  it  in  England  I  screamed 
into  hers — "Fiddlesticks !" 

Unfortunately  just  as  I  made  my  remark  a  dead 
silence  fell  upon  the  room  and  so  everyone  heard  it  and 
laughed.  A  duologue  extolling  both  families  followed 
and  at  last,  when  it  ended,  Emma  got  up  and  inflicted 


THE  DEVIL'S  CRADLE  45 

herself  on  someone  else.  The  moment  she  did  so  Graf 
Wolfram  came  across  the  room  and  took  her  seat. 

"What  was  Fiddlesticks?"  he  asked. 

"She  thought  I  had  never  heard  good  music  before: 
and  I  live  in  London." 

"What  are  you  going  to  sing?  I  see  your  name  down 
next." 

"I'm  going  to  sing  some  nursery  rhymes." 

"English  or  German?" 

"English.    Are  there  German  ones?" 

"Isn't  that  a  silly  question  ?  Where  there  are  children 
there  are  songs." 

"As  yet  I  have  only  spoken  to  one  German  child,"  I 
reminded  him.  "He  did  not  look  as  if  he  had  ever  had 
songs  sung  to  him.  He  seemed  ill  and  sad." 

"If  you  mean  my  son  he  has  to  work  hard.  That 
cannot  be  helped.  The  struggle  for  life  is  severe  now- 
a-days  and  Germans  must  keep  abreast.  Either  hammer 
or  anvil.  You  know  that  saying." 

I  got  up  then  because  it  was  time  for  my  song  and 
I  wondered  as  I  faced  the  audience  how  they  would  like 
it.  It  seemed  worlds  away  from  over-worked  children 
and  men  of  blood  and  iron. 

"Hush-a-bye,  baby,  on  the  tree-top, 
When  the  wind  blows  the  cradle  will  rock, 
When  the  wind  ceases  the  cradle  will  fall, 
Down  will  come  baby,  cradle  and  all." 

1  stopped  a  moment  at  the  end  of  the  verse  and  then 
sang  the  refrain  which  is  set  to  a  haunting  tune : 

"These  are  the  songs  my  mother  sang 

With  an  old-fashioned  melody; 
There  are  no  songs  in  all  the  world 
Like  the  songs  my  mother  sang  to  me." 


46  THE  DEVIL'S  CRADLE 

The  Germans  liked  it,  wonderful  to  say.  I  saw  that 
by  the  way  the  looked  at  each  other  and  waited  for  more. 

"She  sang  'Chip,  Chip'  my  little  horse, 

Chip,  chip  again,  sor. 
How  many  miles  from  Dublin  Town? 

Three  score  and  ten,  sor. 

Chip,  chip  my  little  horse,  chip,  chip  again,  sor. 
Can  I  get  back  by  candle-light? 

Yes,  and  back  again,  sor. 

And  then  the  refrain  again  and  then  the  dirge-like  third 
verse : 

"All  round  my  hat,  I  wear  a  green  willow, 

All  round  my  hat  for  a  twelve  month  and  a  day. 
And  if  anyone  should  ask  me,  the  reason  of  my  sorrow, 
I  would  tell  them  that  my  true  love's  gone  far,  far  away." 

And  for  the  third  time  the  refrain. 

Well,  it  just  happened  to  please  them.  They  clapped 
and  clapped  and  swarmed  about  the  platform  making 
much  of  me  and  crying  for  an  encore.  So  I  sang  it 
again  and  they  made  more  fuss  after  the  second  hear- 
ing than  after  the  first.  Innig,  gemuthvoll,  reizend, 
frisch.  They  did  say  nice  things  and  no  mistake  about 
it.  I  felt  frightfully  bucked  up. 

"But  why?"  I  said  to  the  Graf.  "There  is  nothing 
in  it." 

"There  is  you  in  it,"  he  told  me.  "When  will  you 
sing  to  us  at  Hohenroda  ?" 

"I  don't  know,"  I  said.    "I  see  difficulties." 

"Why  should  there  be  difficulties  ?" 

"I'm  not  here  on  my  own." 

He  frowned  as  if  he  did  not  or  would  not  under- 
stand. The  performance  was  over.  The  host  and 


THE  DEVIL'S  CRADLE  47 

hostess  were  both  fluttering  near  their  most  distinguished 
guest  as  if  they  wished  to  attract  his  notice,  and  at  last 
the  hostess,  a  stout,  very  Jewish-looking  woman  in  gold 
brocade  and  diamonds,  sidled  up  to  him  and  said: 

"Dear  Graf !  Supper  is  served  in  the  dining-room. 
Will  wou  ..." 

He  looked  at  her,  turned  to  me  and  offered  me  his 
arm. 

"You  shall  not  run  away  from  me  to-night,"  he  said. 

"But  I  believe  you  were  meant  to  take  in  your  hostess," 
I  pointed  out. 

"She  didn't  say  so." 

"You  gave  her  no  chance.  I'm  sure  you  were  not 
meant  to  take  me." 

He  made  no  answer,  but  marched  into  the  supper-room 
with  me  on  his  arm  and  went  straight  to  a  little  table 
set  for  two.  It  was  in  a  corner  and  we  had  a  good  view 
of  the  company  from  it,  especially  of  Emma,  who  sat 
beside  Oscar  Strauss,  but  paid  more  attention  to  us  than 
to  him. 

"How  unpleasantly  that  girl  always  stares,"  said  my 
cavalier  and  he  moved  his  chair  a  little  so  that  he  faced 
me  and  had  his  shoulder  turned  to  Emma.  I  saw  that 
she  was  watching  him  and  noticed  what  he  did.  At  any 
rate  she  changed  color  and  shot  a  glance  my  way  that 
ought  to  have  put  me  on  my  guard. 


THE  DEVIL'S  CRADLE 


X 


IT  was  an  excellent  supper  but  not  in  the  least  like 
a  ball  supper  at  home.  It  consisted  of  four  or  five 
courses  and  all  of  them  except  the  ice  pudding  at 
the  end  were  hot.  Rhine  salmon  came  after  the  meat 
and  mountains  of  giant  asparagus  after  the  salmon. 
The  Germans  did  enjoy  it.  Everyone  sat  down  in  groups 
at  little  tables  and  there  were  long  speeches  about  the 
bride  and  bridegroom  and  their  families.  At  the  end 
of  each  speech  everyone  got  up  and  clinked  glasses  with 
everyone  else  and  perambulated  the  room  so  as  to  miss 
nobody.  I  didn't  understand  the  etiquette  of  the  occa- 
sion, but  I  thought  the  glass-clinking  and  the  walking 
about  were  festive  so  I  mixed  with  the  crowd  and  held 
up  my  glass  to  anyone  whose  looks  I  liked,  old  or  young, 
male  or  female.  I  wondered  why  some  of  them  looked 
amused.  But  they  all  clinked.  The  only  person  who 
stayed  in  his  place  most  of  the  time  was  Graf  Wolfram. 
He  went  once  to  the  central  table  where  the  bride  and 
bridegroom  sat  and  after  that  he  remained  in  our  corner 
and  looked  on. 

"What  a  heavenly  party  this  is!"  I  said  when  I  got 
back  after  unusually  loud  huzzas  and  prolonged  clinks. 
"I  am  enjoying  it."  f 

"So  am  I,"  he  said  and  filled  my  glass  with  champagne 
again. 

"You  don't  show  it.  Why  don't  you  run  about  and 
clink?" 

"I  know  no  one  here  except  von  Gosen,"  he  said 
stiffly.  "I  have  offered  him  my  good  wishes." 

I  suppose  I  turned  as  red  as  my  dress.    I  felt  like  it. 


THE  DEVIL'S  CRADLE  49 

"Do  you  mean  to  say  that  you  can  only  clink  glasses 
with  someone  you  know  ?"  I  cried. 

"There  is  no  set  rule.  .  .  ."he  began. 

"Why  didn't  you  tell  me?  Why  did  you  let  me  make 
a  fool  of  myself  ?" 

"I  liked  watching  you." 

I  didn't  speak  for  at  least  two  minutes  and  next  time 
a  health  was  drunk  I  sat  still. 

"To-morrow  I  shall  bring  you  an  invitation  from  my 
mother,"  he  said,  "at  least  I  will  bring  it  if  you  will 
promise  to  come." 

"I  should  love  to  come,"  I  said. 

He  looked  as  pleased  as  Punch. 

"But  it  may  be  impossible,"  I  added. 

"Why  should  it  be  impossible?  I  would  fetch  you  in 
my  car  and  bring  you  back  the  same  day:  unless  you 
would  come  for  one  of  your  English  week-ends.  That 
I  should  like  better  still." 

We  were  getting  on.  But  I  saw  breakers  ahead  that 
he  ignored. 

"Can  I  get  back  by  candlelight? 
Yes,  and  back  again,  sor." 

1  sang  to  him  under  my  breath  and  he  lifted  his  glass 
and  clinked  to  me. 

"Will  you  come  for  a  week-end  ?"  he  said.  "I  will  take 
you  long  walks  in  the  forest  or,  if  you  like,  we  will  ride 
together.  Can  you  ride?" 

"Yes,  I  can,"  I  said.  "Is  Hohenroda  an  old  castle  or 
a  new  one  ?" 

"Most  of  it  is  old :  some  of  it  is  twelfth  century;  some 
not  so  old.  You  must  come  soon." 

"Why?" 


SO  THE  DEVIL'S  CRADLE 

"I  am  naturally  impatient.    I  want  to  see  you  there." 

"Of  course,"  I  mused  more  to  myself  than  to  him, 
"it  could  easily  be  managed  if  I  could  bring  some  Gut- 
heims.  Even  one  Gutheim  might  suffice,  for  instance 
Emma." 

"Is  Emma  the  young  lady  whose  eyes  are  always  fixed 
on  us  and  whose  mouth  is  not  as  completely  shut  as  a 
mouth  should  be?" 

I  nodded ;  and  in  order  to  placate  him  I  said : 

"She  is  rather  romantic,  you  know,  and  she  admires 
you." 

"I  do  not  wish  to  be  admired  by  that  young  lady," 
he  said. 

"They  are  going  to  dance  now,"  I  told  him,  for  every- 
one was  streaming  out  of  the  room  and  I  thought  it  was 
time  to  move.  "I  hope  I  shall  get  some  partners.  I 
don't  feel  like  a  wall-flower  to-night." 

"You  don't  look  like  one." 

"It's  the  music  and  the  supper  and  the  champagne  and 
the  glass-clinking,"  I  said,  "they  get  into  one's  head." 

I  believe  that  under  his  breath  he  said  "You  do,"  but 
I  can't  be  quite  sure.  The  next  moment  we  followed 
everyone  else  into  the  music-room  which  had  been  cleared 
for  dancing,  and  he  asked  me  to  dance.  There  was  a 
good  band  and  it  was  playing  the  "Blue  Danube." 

"How  little  one  can  guess  at  what  is  coming,"  I  ob- 
served when  we  stopped  for  a  moment.  "I  thought  I 
had  seen  the  first  and  last  of  you  the  other  day  in  the 
train." 

"You  set  me  down  for  a  bear." 

"I  did.    You  were  a  bear." 

"Well,  bears  dance,"  said  he,  "they  are  known  for  it," 
and  we  went  round  again.  He  danced  extremely  well. 


THE  DEVIL'S  CRADLE  51 

There  is  a  custom  at  German  dances  that  enables  a 
man  to  invite  you  away  for  an  extra  tour:  wmch  means 
that  you  have  a  turn  with  him  and  then  come  back  to 
your  partner.  Of  course  this  custom  may  suit  you  or 
annoy  you  according  to  circumstances.  I  was  annoyed 
when  Herr  Oscar  Strauss  came  up  and  asked  me  to 
dance  with  him,  but  although  Graf  Wolfram  looked  stiff 
and  displeased  he  relinquished  my  arm  at  once  and  I 
had  to  acquiesce. 

"You  dance  very  lightly,"  said  Herr  Strauss  in  a  con- 
descending tone.  "Englishwomen  are  usually  heavy." 

"Have  you  danced  with  many?"  I  asked. 

"You  are  the  first :  but  one  hears  things." 

"Then  listen  to  me,  Herr  Strauss.  I've  only  been  two 
days  in  Germany,  but  I've  found  out  that  when  it  comes 
to  talking  of  England  you  all  have  the  ears  of  King 
Midas.  I'm  going  back  now  to  my  partner." 

He  stared  and  seemed  affronted,  but  I  paid  no  further 
attention  to  him.  On  the  way  home  I  thought  the  female 
Gutheims  were  rather  stuffy,  but  Emma  said  her  head 
ached  and  Eugenie  said  she  was  too  tired  to  talk. 

At  the  wedding  next  day  Graf  Wolfram  singled  me 
out  again,  but  he  was  not  allowed  to  sit  next  to  me  at 
the  interminable  Hochzeitsmahl.  The  places  were  care- 
fully arranged  and  he  had  to  sit  between  two  important 
elderly  females  who  talked  to  him  with  assiduity  although 
he  looked  to  me  as  if  he  were  in  a  bearish  mood  and 
hardly  answered  them.  The  moment  we  all  rose  from 
the  table  he  came  to  my  side  and  asked  me  again  if  I 
would  pay  his  mother  a  visit  at  Hohenroda.  He  said 
that  this  time  he  brought  me  a  definite  invitation  for 
any  day  I  chose  to  fix  next  week. 


52  THE  DEVIL'S  CRADLE 

"I  must  ask  Frau  Gutheim,"  I  said.  "I  am  her 
guest." 

"Ask  her  now,  then.  There  she  is.  I  will  come  with 
you." 

"You  think  I  am  afraid?" 

"I  see  you  are." 

We  went  straight  up  to  Frau  Gutheim:  I  knowing 
that  I  was  going  to  make  trouble  for  myself  and  he  quite 
incapable  of  understanding  that  anyone  called  Gutheim 
could  matter  to  a  Hohenroda  or  to  a  person  a  Hohen- 
roda  chose  to  honor. 

"The  Grafin  v.  Hohenroda  asks  me  to  pay  her  a  visit 
one  day  next  week  .  .  ."I  began,  but  it  was  difficult  to 
go  on  because  Frau  Gutheim  turned  her  back  on  me 
and  how  can  one  make  arrangements  with  a  back  ?  How- 
ever, I'm  quick  in  my  movements  and  she  is  not,  so 
I  managed  to  corner  her  and  say  more  or  less  to  her 
face  that  I  thought  Tuesday  would  be  a  good  day. 

"Meinetwegen,"  said  Frau  Gutheim,  "you  must  please 
yourself." 

"There!  You  see!"  I  said  as  she  tramped  from  us 
in  dudgeon.  "They  don't  like  it.  If  you  had  asked  them, 
too  .  .  ." 

"My  mother  doesn't  receive  Jews,"  he  said. 

The  Germans  are  queer.  In  some  ways  they  take  one 
back  hundreds  of  years:  and  in  others  they  are  ahead 
of  the  world.  At  that  very  moment  when  Graf  Wolfram 
talked  of  Jews  as  if  he  lived  in  the  reign  of  King  John 
other  Germans  were  making  the  big  guns  at  Essen  that 
smashed  up  Liege  and  Namur. 


THE  DEVIL'S  CRADLE  53 


XI 


I  NEARLY  packed  my  trunks  and  went  home  the  day 
after  the  wedding,  but  I  tried  to  make  excuses  for 
Frau  Gutheim  and  Emma  and  tell  myself  that  they 
were  over-tired  and  therefore  not  in  their  right  minds. 
It  was  an  unpleasant  experience.  Frau  Gutheim  went 
about  with  a  pursed-up  mouth  and  a  heated  face,  while 
Emma  sulked  over  her  embroidery  and  hardly  answered 
when  I  spoke  to  her.  I  thought  they  had  taken  a  violent 
dislike  to  me  and  I  wished  myself  back  in  London.  But 
every  day  I  hoped  that  a  good  night's  sleep  would  re- 
store them  to  reason.  I  did  not  want  a  violent  break 
with  them  if  I  could  help  it  and  at  any  rate  I  wanted 
to  stay  on  till  I  had  been  to  Hohenroda.  Neither  of 
them  had  spoken  of  this  forthcoming  visit  to  me,  but 
I  knew  it  rankled  in  their  minds  by  the  way  they  an- 
swered Jenny  Cassell  when  she  came  in  one  afternoon 
and  asked  us  to  coffee  on  the  following  Tuesday.  They 
said  they  would  come  with  pleasure,  but  that  I  must 
speak  for  myself  as  I  made  my  own  engagements  without 
regard  to  them.  Of  course  this  way  of  putting  it  was 
most  unfair  and  gave  Jenny  a  wrong  impression,  but  I 
could  only  say  that  next  Tuesday  I  should  probably  be 
going  to  Hohenroda.  Jenny  first  looked  as  if  she  thought 
I  was  making  game  of  her  and  then  she  seemed  to  take 
the  Gutheim  point  of  view  and  find  something  unfriendly 
in  my  accepting  such  an  invitation.  I  had  not  meant 
it  to  be,  but  on  looking  back  now  I  can  see  that  it  was 
rather  like  visiting  at  Windsor  from  a  house  that  Windsor 
would  not  receive:  and  it  was  complicated  by  the  fact 
that  Graf  Wolfram  had  actually  been  the  guest  of  the 


54  THE  DEVIL'S  CRADLE 

Gutheims  and  their  relations  on  two  successive  days.  I 
think  perhaps  that  he  ought  to  have  asked  them  or  that 
I  ought  to  have  refused  to  go  unless  he  did;  but  at  the 
time  I  did  not  see  the  matter  in  this  light.  I  thought 
he  knew  his  own  business  and  that  they  were  two  tire- 
some silly  women,  and  I  still  think  they  behaved  abomin- 
ably in  the  end. 

Herr  Gutheim  was  as  amiable  as  ever,  but  that  did 
not  help  much  because  he  was  only  present  at  meals,  and 
because  he  talked  to  me  his  wife  soon  began  to  imply 
that  I  set  my  cap  at  him.  One  evening  when  he  brought 
me  a  box  of  chocolates  she  looked  daggers  at  us  and 
dashed  down  some  silver  spoons  she  had  been  counting, 
as  if  she  wished  she  could  throw  them  at  our  heads.  I 
opened  the  chocolates  and  offered  them  to  her  and  to 
Emma,  but  they  both  refused  in  a  glacial  manner  and 
flounced  out  of  the  room. 

"My  poor  wife  is  still  in  an  excited  state,"  said  Herr 
Gutheim.  "Her  nerves  are  highly  sensitive  and  she  feels 
Eugenie's  departure.  In  a  few  days  she  will  be  normal 
again." 

I  hoped  so:  otherwise  I  began  to  think  that  I  should 
have  to  stampede  and  give  up  the  visit  to  Hohenroda. 
However,  I  was  still  there  on  Sunday  when  I  knew  that 
Herr  Oscar  Strauss  was  expected  to  supper  and  when 
we  were  to  go  to  an  open-air  concert  in  the  Stadtpark 
in  the  afternoon.  The  day  was  fine  and  warm.  The 
restaurant  near  the  bandstand  was  crowded  and  I  was 
well  amused  in  spite  of  the  two  women  who  were  still  in 
a  bad  humor. 

"Next  Sunday  we  will  go  to  the  Zoological  Gardens," 
said  Herr  Gutheim  to  me.  "They  have  good  concerts 


THE  DEVIL'S  CRADLE  55 

there  and  one  can  look  at  the  beasts  as  well  as  at  the 
people." 

Frau  Gutheim  and'  Emma  exchanged  glances  and  their 
glances  said:  "Next  Sunday!  Does  she  mean  to  stay 
forever,  then?" 

"I  expect  to  hear  from  Dad  to-morrow,"  I  answered. 
"He  may  want  me  back  any  day." 

They  looked  sourly  at  their  coffee  cups  and  were  silent. 

"But  you  have  promised  to  stay  a  month,"  said  Herr 
Gutheim  with  the  guilelessness  of  his  sex.  "You  would 
not  have  taken  the  long  expensive  journey  from  Eng- 
land unless  you  meant  to  stay  at  least  a  month.  I  re- 
member that  was  the  time  fixed  because  my  wife  said 
there  would  be  ample  time  for  your  visit  before  her 
cure  at  Marienbad  even  if  you  wished  to  extend  it  a 
little." 

"We  shall  see,"  I  said,  watching  the  faces  of  the 
women  and  feeling  sorry  for  the  extent  to  which  the 
Herr  would  get  it  when  he  arrived  home.  "Dad  may 
want  me." 

"If  your  father  wants  you  it  is  only  right  that  you 
should  go,"  said  Frau  Gutheim.  "You  came  for 
Eugenie's  wedding  and  that  happy  event  is  now  over. 
My  husband  is  not  acquainted  with  English  customs. 
Our  cousins  in  Manchester  inform  me  that  a  week-end 
is  the  usual  limit  of  a  visit." 

"But  that  was  when  you  wanted  them  to  have  Emma 
for  three  months,"  put  in  Herr  Gutheim,  "on  two  occa- 
sions Eugenie  went  to  them  in  the  holidays  and  it  was 
only  when  they  were  prevented  by  measles  ..." 

"Measles!"  snorted  Frau  Gutheim,  nearly  as  red  in 
the  face  as  if  she  were  suffering  from  the  disease  in 
question.  "The  English,  I  say,  are  incapable  of  hos- 


56  THE  DEVIL'S  CRADLE 

pitality  because  they  are  all  egotists.  Why  then  should 
they  expect  to  receive  it?" 

It  really  was  uncomfortable,  you  see.  I  hate  repeat- 
ing and  describing  such  behavior,  but  unless  I  did  so 
you  would  not  understand  what  happened.  At  supper, 
with  Herr  Strauss  there  as  guest,  things  got  worse  and 
worse.  The  two  women  were  determined  to  pick  a 
quarrel  and  whether  I  spoke  or  whether  I  was  silent 
they  found  some  cause  of  offense.  I  had  never  en- 
countered anything  like  it'  before.  When  the  talk  turned 
on  music  they  became  furious  because,  as  it  happens, 
I  have  heard  a  great  deal  and  was  able  to  interest  Herr 
Strauss.  We  discussed  the  Russians  and  the  most 
modern  Frenchmen  and  they  were  stupid  enough  to  main- 
tain that  no  music  composed  or  even  performed  out  of 
Germany  could  be  music  at  all.  When  I  spoke  of  Ravel 
Emma  said  Ravel  was  nix  and  if  I  pretended  to  know 
good  music  from  bad  why  had  I  sung  that  childish  stuff 
the  other  night?  Of  course  I  kept  my  temper  and  said 
that  after  supper  I  would  sing  a  German  song  if  she 
liked,  but  she  only  shrugged  her  shoulders  and  said  that 
it  would  be  painful  to  hear  her  native  tongue  pronounced 
with  a  foreign  accent.  That  reminded  me  of  a  German 
singer  I  had  once  heard  who  sang : 

"Dooglass,  Dooglass,  dender  oond  drue." 

but  they  all  got  frightfully  angry  when  I  told  them  about 
him  and  said  that  German  singers  pronounced  English 
perfectly  and  that  at  any  rate  they  could  not  hear  any 
difference  between  my  pronunciation  of  the  words  and 
and  his. 

When  supper  was  over  we  went  into  the  living-room 
aftd  Emma,  saying  we  would  now  have  some  music,  sat 


THE  DEVIL'S  CRADLE  57 

down  and  played  a  pot-pourri  from  Lohengrin.  I  de- 
test pot-pourris  and  she  played  badly  so  I  was  glad  when 
it  came  to  an  end.  So  was  Herr  Strauss  quite  obviously, 
and  he  asked  me  to  sing.  So  I  sang  and  he  applauded 
and  Frau  Gutheim  handed  me  a  cup  of  coffee  as  if  she 
had  been  Queen  Eleanor  and  I  had  been  Fair  Rosamond. 
I  wished  I  knew  how  to  pacify  her,  but  I  only  seemed  to 
make  matters  worse  when  I  asked  Emma  to  sing  a 
duet  with  Herr  Strauss.  She  said  that  she  did  not 
feel  in  a  sufficiently  harmonious  mood,  so  Herr  Strauss  sat 
down  to  the  piano  by  himself  and  what  do  you  think  that 
silly  little  man  did?  He  sang  "Du  bist  wie  eine  Blume" 
from  beginning  to  end  with  his  eyes  fixed  on  my  face: 
for  he  sang  from  memory.  It  was  all  I  could  do  not 
to  laugh  till  I  found  it  was  not  going  to  be  a  laughing 
matter.  When  he  began  Emma  and  her  mother  gave 
violent  starts,  rather  too  violent  to  be  natural,  as  he  went 
on  Emma  showed  signs  of  increasing  agitation,  and  when 
he  started  the  third  verse  she  brought  him  to  a  full  stop 
by  breaking  into  hysterical  sobs  and  tearing  out  of  the 
room. 


XII 

"  TT  S  anything  the  matter  with  Fraulein  Emma  ?"  asked 
Herr  Strauss,  getting  up  from  the  piano  and  look- 
ing  rather  perturbed. 

Frau  Gutheim  made  no  reply,  but  got  up  and  followed 
her  daughter  out  of  the  room.  When  she  came  back  her 
manner  was  constrained  and  unfriendly. 

"Emma  begs  to  be  excused,"  she  said.  "She  is  suffer- 
ing and  will  go  to  bed." 


58  THE  DEVIL'S  CRADLE 

Herr  Strauss  murmured  something  regretful  and 
polite  and  asked  if  music  would  disturb  her  as  he  would 
now  like  to  try  a  duet  with  me.  Frau  Gutheim  said 
that  she  was  very  sorry,  but  she  feared  that  Emma's 
head  was  in  a  state  when  every  sound  was  painful.  Per- 
haps to-morrow  then,  said  Herr  Strauss.  It  must  de- 
pend entirely  upon  Emma,  said  Frau  Gutheim.  The 
doctor  would  be  consulted  and  if  he  ordered  a  cure  of 
any  kind  the  cure  would  be  undertaken  at  any  cost  to 
Emma's  parents  in  money  and  discomfort:  but  in  that 
case  .  .  .  Frau  Gutheim  did  not  continue,  but  she 
looked  darkly  at  me.  Herr  Strauss,  half  amused,  half 
mortified  and  plainly  incredulous,  took  his  departure.  I  felt 
very  uncomfortable.  I  made  up  my  mind  that  the  next  let- 
ter from  Dad  should  contain  my  immediate  recall  to  Eng- 
land and  hoped  it  would  arrive  to-morrow  morning,  but 
in  the  innocence  of  my  heart  I  thought  that  I  must  wait 
for  some  excuse  to  end  my  visit  in  such  an  abrupt  way. 
The  two  women  had  behaved  atrociously,  but  I  wanted 
to  preserve  appearances,  and  took  for  granted  they 
would  want  to  also.  I  did  not  allow  for  the  violence 
of  their  tempers  and  the  boorishness  of  their  manners 
when  annoyed.  Herr  Strauss  had  hardly  closed  the  door 
after  him  when  Emma  dashed  into  the  room  again  and 
standing  in  front  of  her  father  said: 

"I  like  not  serpents  in  my  bosom." 

Poor  Herr  Gutheim  looked  ruefully  at  his  daughter's 
clouded  tear-stained  face  and  thought  to  amend  matters 
by  calling  her  his  sweet  child  and  advising  her  to  take 
a  Brausepulver  and  rest  her  strained  nerves.  He  meant 
well,  but  he  only  made  Emma  worse.  What  she  wanted 
was  a  firm  hand  and  a  straight  tongue  just  then. 

"Either  she  goes  or  I  do,"  she  burst  forth. 


THE  DEVIL'S  CRADLE 


59 


"Emma,  control  yourself,"  adjured  her  mother.  "Be 
not  so  excited.  You  will  suffer  for  it  to-morrow." 

"I  will  not  sleep  under  the  same  roof  with  her.  I 
cannot  trust  myself.  I  might  commit  an  action  that  would 
blight  my  young  life.  Suppose  that  in  a  moment  of 
ungovernable  temptation  I  seized  a  knife." 

Frau  Gutheim  threw  up  her  hands  in  horror,  but  the 
horror  was  mixed  with  admiration.  Herr  Gutheim 
shook  his  head  gloomily. 

"Such  things  happen  every  day,"  continued  Emma. 
"Why  should  they  not  happen  to  me?  Am  I  not  flesh 
and  blood  then?  One  of  us  spends  the  night  in  a  hotel. 
That  is  my  last  word." 

"Are  you  talking  about  me  ?"  I  asked ;  for  the  girl  was 
in  such  a  crazy  state  that  I  could  hardly  believe  my 
eyes  and  ears.  Her  whole  body  shook  with  fury  and  her 
eyes  looked  half  their  natural  size  and  wild. 

"Both  have  you  stolen,"  she  shrieked.  "Both.  Noth- 
ing is  left  for  me  except  to  die." 

"What  is  it  all  about?"  inquired  Herr  Gutheim. 

"You  may  well  ask,"  said  I,  and  probably  I  looked 
disdainful. 

I  know  nothing  of  medicine  so  I  cannot  tell  you 
whether  the  exhibition  that  followed  was  genuine  hys- 
terics or  put  on.  It  was  most  unpleasant  anyhow  and 
I  should  think  wearing  to  the  performer.  Emma  be- 
haved exactly  as  a  child  of  five  does  when  it  is  in  a 
tantrum  and  knows  its  parents  are  too  doting  to  spank 
it.  She  screamed,  she  laughed,  she  sobbed,  she  lay  on 
a  sofa  and  kicked:  and  all  the  while  she  railed  against 
me  and  said  that  I  had  broken  her  heart  and  ruined 
her  prospects.  Her  father  sighed  and  said  it  was  very 
unnerving.  I  could  tell  by  the  way  he  took  it  that  Emma 


60  THE  DEVIL'S  CRADLE 

had  led  him  this  kind  of  dance  before.  Fran  Gutheim 
hung  over  the  little  wretch  with  Brausepulver  and  eau 
de  Cologne,  imploring  her  to  be  calm  and  to  reflect  on 
the  obligations  of  hospitality  from  the  exalted  German 
point  of  view.  A  young  girl  of  my  age  could  not  be 
asked  to  turn  out  at  a  moment's  notice  and  Emma  should 
certainly  not  sleep  by  herself  at  a  hotel. 

"I  will,  I  will,"  she  said. 

"Only  over  my  body,"  said  Frau  Gutheim. 

"I  don't  mind  sleeping  at  a  hotel,"  I  said.  "I'll  go 
to  the  Rheinischer  Hof  to-night  and  to  England  to- 
morrow." 

A  piercing  scream  from  Emma  startled  us  all  and 
she  sat  up  as  if  she  had  been  jerked  by  strings. 

"Shameless !"  she  began  and  then  her  fury  actually 
seemed  to  choke  her. 

Herr  Gutheim  did  what  was  in  him.  He  slapped  his 
head  and  said  that  never,  never  would  he  survive  the 
disgrace  of  seeing  a  young  girl  who  was  a  foreigner, 
and  his  guest,  leave  his  house  in  such  a  way.  He  im- 
plored his  wife  to  bring  Emma  to  reason  and  he  even 
proposed  to  call  Eugenie  back  by  telegram  to  deal  with 
the  crisis.  Also,  he  asked  again  what  it  was  all  about. 

"Dear  Herr  Gutheim,  I  cannot  stay  here,"  I  began. 

"Papa,  too !"  screeched  Emma  and  fell  flat  again. 
"You  hear,  Mutti  ?  She  calls  him  dear  Herr  Gutheim !" 

An  hour  later  I  was  at  the  door  of  the  Rheinischer 
Hof  asking  if  I  could  have  a  room  for  the  night.  Herr 
Gutheim  had  wished  to  accompany  me,  but  I  would  not 
let  him.  I  thought  he  was  needed  at  home,  for  his  wife 
seemed  to  be  nearly  as  excited  and  unhinged  as  his 
daughter.  She  didn't  kick,  but  she  wept  and  wrung  her 
hands. 


THE  DEVIL'S  CRADLE  61 

"I  am  terribly  upset,"  she  wailed,  "I  am  afraid  that 
Emma  will  have  a  serious  illness.  I  will  let  you  know 
every  other  day  how  she  goes  on." 

"That  is  quite  unnecessary,"  I  said  and  went  my  ways. 

But  as  I  stood  in  the  vestibule  of  the  hotel  I  suddenly 
understood  why  Emma  had  been  so  flustered  by  the 
prospect  of  my  coming  to  the  Rheinischer  Hof,  for  Graf 
Wolfram  came  up  to  me  with  an  air  of  surprise. 

"Gnadiges  Frdulein,"  he  said,  "what  can  you  be  doing 
here  by  yourself?" 

"I  have  left  the  Neuestrasse,"  I  answered,  and,  turn- 
ing to  the  hall  porter  who  came  forward,  I  told  him  that 
I  wanted  a  room  for  the  night  and  to  find  out  about  my 
journey  to  England  next  day. 

"But  what  has  happened?"  asked  Graf  Wolfram, 
visibly  concerned.  "Are  the  Gutheims  ill  or  called 
away  ?" 

"Is  there  such  a  thing  as  a  lounge  or  a  room  where 
we  can  talk?"  I  said,  for  I  could  not  stand  there  with 
him.  At  least  I  did  not  feel  inclined  to.  The  hotel 
servants  could  hear  what  we  said  and  looked  more  in- 
terested in  us  than  I  liked.  He  said  there  was  a  salon 
and  showed  me  the  door  so  I  went  in  there  and  he  fol- 
lowed me.  I  thought  that  I  must  give  him  some  ex- 
planation of  my  sudden  departure  because  I  should  not 
now  be  able  to  go  to  Hohenroda. 

"It  is  not  fitting  that  a  young  lady  of  your  age  should 
come  by  herself  to  a  hotel,"  he  said  when  he  had  shut 
the  door.  "What  does  it  mean?"  I  saw  that  he  was 
very  angry  and  I  cast  about  for  what  I  could  say  without 
making  him  still  more  angry  with  the  people  whose  roof 
I  had  just  left  under  such  peculiar  circumstances. 

"It  doesn't  matter  at  all,  you  know,"  I  began.    "I  shall 


62  THE  DEVIL'S  CRADLE 

be  at  home  again  by  Tuesday  morning  and  Dad  will  be 
delighted  to  have  me  back." 

"But  I  am  not  delighted  to  see  you  go,"  he  said.  "Have 
you  forgotten  that  you  were  to  spend  Tuesday  at  Hohen- 
roda?" 

"If  I  were  to  stay  here  over  Tuesday,"  I  said  re- 
flectively, wondering  whether  I  ought  and  what  Dad 
would  say  if  I  did;  but  I  was  interrupted  before  I  got 
any  further. 

"That  is  quite  out  of  the  question,"  said  Graf  Wolfram, 
speaking  with  authority.  "You  must  go  home  at  once. 
You  have  no  idea  of  the  scandal  there  would  be  in  a 
town  like  Reichenstadt  if  you  stayed  on  in  such  a  way." 

"I  don't  know  that  what  Reichenstadt  says  of  me  is 
worth  considering,"  I  argued.  "I  shall  probably  never 
see  the  place  again." 

There  was  a  moment  of  tense  silence  and  then  I  had 
the  surprise  of  my  life. 

"The  moment  I  saw  you  I  loved  you,"  said  Graf 
Wolfram.  "I  hope  you  will  come  back  here  as  my 
wife." 

We  seemed  to  measure  glances  as  men  measure  swords 
before  I  answered  him.  His  eyes  had  told  me  a  good 
deal  lately,  but  I  had  not  expected  this  direct  avowal. 

"Is  it  yes  ?"  he  asked. 

"I  must  think  it  over,"  I  said. 

"I'll  come  to  England  for  my  answer  ...  if  there 
is  a  chance." 

"I  didn't  like  you  at  all  in  the  train." 

"But  you  like  me  now." 

I  did !  more  and  more,  every  time  we  met :  partly  be- 
cause he  liked  me  so  much.  He  was  an  ardent  irre- 
sistible lover  and  in  spite  of  his  pride  an  appealing  one. 


THE  DEVIL'S  CRADLE  63 

He  was  very  certain  of  himself  with  the  rest  of  the 
world  but  not  quite  so  certain  with  me;  and  there  was 
a  quality  of  straightness  in  him  that  I  value  above  any- 
thing. We  understood  each  other  from  the  first  in  ways 
that  mattered,  although  we  had  different  points  of  view 
and  never  agreed  on  some  subjects.  But  to  come  to 
him  from  people  like  the  Gutheims  was  to  come  from 
a  swamp  to  a  hill-top.  He  breathed  in  clean  air. 

"You  have  not  told  me  yet  why  you  left  the  Neue- 
strasse,"  he  said  when  we  had  talked  a  little  longer  and 
he  had  amused  me  by  saying  that  when  people  loved 
each  other  time  was  not  a  factor  that  counted  as  it  could 
not  be  measured  in  an  ordinary  way. 

"That  is  true,"  I  said,  thinking  of  Emma  Gutheim. 
"I  know  of  a  girl  who  fell  in  love  with  a  man  while  he 
handed  her  an  umbrella  she  had  dropped." 

"I  was  not  talking  of  silly  geese,"  he  said.  "I  was 
thinking  of  ourselves.  But  tell  me,  Karen  .  .  .  why 
did  you  leave  the  Gutheims  so  suddenly?" 

"Emma  took  a  dislike  to  me  and  refused  to  sleep 
under  the  same  roof." 

"Emma!  so  ein  Judenm'ddel!  Took  a  dislike  to  you! 
On  what  grounds?" 

"Well  ...  it  seems  an  inadequate  reason,"  I  said. 
"But  Herr  Strauss  sang  Du  bist  wie  eine  Blume  and 
looked  at  me  instead  of  at  her." 

"How  dare  he  look  at  you !" 

"It  required  no  daring.  He  was  at  the  piano  and  I 
was  nearly  opposite." 

"You  ought  never  to  have  visited  those  people,"  he 
exclaimed  and  then  added:  "But  if  you  had  not  done 
so  we  should  not  have  met." 

"I  wonder  what  will  come  of  it,"  said  I. 


64  THE  DEVIL'S  CRADLE 


XIII 

I  WIRED  to  Dad  that  I  was  on  my  way  back  and  he 
met  me  at  Charing  Cross.  I  had  made  up  my 
mind  on  the  journey  that  I  would  not  tell  him  that 
I  wanted  to  marry  a  German  till  we  were  seated  quietly 
at  home  together  and  could  talk  undisturbed.  I  feared 
it  might  be  rather  a  blow  to  him  because  his  business 
never  took  him  to  Germany  and  he  probably  would  not 
like  the  idea  of  my  spending  the  rest  of  my  life  so  far 
away  from  him  and  amongst  foreigners.  But  directly 
we  were  in  our  car  he  asked  me  why  I  had  come  home 
in  such  a  hurry. 

"I  didn't  get  on  with  the  Gutheims,"  I  said.  "We  had 
a  flare  up." 

"What  about?" 

"Oh !  nothing  much,"  I  said,  for  it  was  impossible  to 
convince  a  hard,  weather-beaten  man  like  Dad  that  such 
people  as  Frau  Gutheim  and  Emma  existed.  He'd  have 
done  like  the  countryman  who  stared  at  a  giraffe  and 
said :  "There  ain't  no  such  animal." 

"I  wrote  to  you  yesterday  and  told  you  to  stay  on  in 
Germany  for  six  months,"  he  said.  "I've  let  the  flat." 

"What  for?" 

"I  have  to  go  to  America  and  I  can't  take  you  with 
me.  I  shall  be  running  about  all  over  the  place." 

"That  is  awkward,"  I  exclaimed. 

"It  is  rather,"  he  conceded.  "You'll  have  to  stay  with 
Mrs.  Maitland,  I  suppose.  I  couldn't  leave  you  alone  in 
the  flat  and  I  had  a  good  offer  for  it  at  once,  so  I 
took  it." 

This  was  all  much  what  had  happened  before  so  I  was 


THE  DEVIL'S  CRADLE  65 

not  surprised  at  it.  But  when  my  mother  was  alive  and 
Dad  made  these  sudden  arrangements  she  had  been  able 
to  temper  them  and  adapt  them  to  our  needs. 

"Nothing  will  induce  me  to  stay  with  Mrs.  Maitland," 
I  said,  for  though  I  was  named  after  my  godmother  I 
did  not  know  much  of  her  and  what  I  knew  I  disliked. 
She  was  one  of  those  home-baked  Marthas  who  hunt 
dust  as  if  it  were  sin  and  make  everyone  in  the  house 
tidy  but  miserable.  I  knew  she  thought  that  I  had  been 
terribly  spoiled  and  was  in  need  of  reform. 

"She  would  want  to  improve  me,"  I  said. 

"But  what  will  you  do?"  said  Dad,  beginning  to  look 
a  little  worried.  I  knew  that  in  his  heart  he  sympathized 
with  me  about  Mrs.  Maitland  because  once  he  had 
stayed  in  her  house  and  she  had  stood  at  the  front  door 
and  told  him  to  wipe  his  boots  and  pick  up  three  matches 
with  which  he  had  lighted  his  pipe. 

"I  think  I'll  get  married,"  I  said  in  a  small  voice,  for 
I  did  not  know  how  Dad  would  take  it. 

"You've  not  brought  back  a  lieutenant?"  he  cried  in  a 
startled  way. 

"A  Rittmeister!"  I  said.  "A  Rittmeister  in  the 
Reichenstadt  Dragoons.  Graf  Wolfram  v.  Hohenroda." 

"Shucks !"  said  Dad.  He  had  been  to  America  before 
and  probably  used  some  of  their  expressions  in  a  way 
no  real  American  would  recognize.  But  they  seemed  to 
come  in  handy. 

At  first  he  didn't  like  the  idea  at  all  and  I  firmly  believe 
that  if  the  American  journey  had  not  been  in  the  offing 
and  the  flat  let,  he  would  have  opposed  us  tooth  and 
nail.  But  I  wired  the  facts  of  the  case  to  Wolfram 
and  by  Sunday  evening  he  was  in  London,  having  supper 
with  Dad  and  me  at  the  Carlton.  He  certainly  showed 


66  THE  DEVIL'S  CRADLE 

himself  an  eager  lover  and  I  was  surprised  to  see  how 
handsome  he  looked  in  civilian  clothes.  Dad  took  to  him 
directly  and  though  he  still  kept  up  some  show  of  dis- 
liking a  foreign  marriage  for  me  he  owned  that  my 
having  arranged  one  for  myself  simplified  the  situation. 
I  don't  think  he  ever  tried  to  make  any  picture  for  him- 
self of  my  future  life  and  position.  He  had  a  talk  with 
Wolfram  next  day  about  business  matters,  told  me  that 
everything  had  been  amicably  settled  and  then  left  us 
to  ourselves. 

"It  will  not  be  easy,  but  I  shall  go  to  our  Embassy 
this  morning  and  try  to  arrange  it,"  Wolfram  said  when  we 
had  said  a  great  deal  that  we  had  to  say  to  each  other 
and  were  ready  to  talk  of  mundane  things. 
"What  won't  be  easy  ?"  I  asked. 

"To  get  married  before  your  father  sails:  but  I  shall 
see  what  can  be  done." 

"We  might  very  well  wait  till  he  comes  back,"  I  said. 
"It  would  give  me  more  time  to  get  my  clothes." 

I  must  repeat  that  even  when  I  called  Wolfram  the 
bearish  man  I  liked  his  eyes.  I  had  soon  discovered 
that  they  altered  the  whole  character  of  his  face,  which 
seen  in  profile  is  hard  and  proud.  He  tells  me  now  that 
he  fell  in  love  with  me  the  very  first  time  he  looked  at 
me  and  that  in  the  beginning  it  was  just  a  little  feeling 
of  attraction,  but  that  it  grew  like  a  fire  you  light  in  a 
forest  on  a  dry  day.  He  found  he  could  not  put  it  out 
although  it  was  really  inconvenient  because  of  his  ob- 
jection to  mixed  marriages.  He  wanted  me  so  much 
that  he  could  not  let  me  go,  but  he  still  had  qualms  when 
he  thought  of  me  with  my  free  ways  and  ideas  at  Hohen- 
roda.  However,  he  would  not  hear  of  waiting  for  me 


THE  DEVIL'S  CRADLE  67 

till  Dad  came  back  unless  his  Embassy  positively  refused 
to  let  him  get  married  within  a  fortnight. 

"I  might  lose  you  altogether,"  he  said.  "You  might 
change  your  mind." 

"If  I  did  that  it  would  be  better  to  lose  me,"  I  pointed 
out;  but  he  assured  me  that  when  once  a  woman  was 
married  she  would  cleave  to  her  husband  unless  she  was 
the  kind  of  woman  who  tempermentally  did  not  cleave: 
in  plain  language,  a  coquette. 

"You  are  not  a  coquette,"  he  said.  "When  you  got 
into  the  train  you  were  more  interested  in  Max  than  in 
me;  and  when  my  friends  looked  into  our  carriage  you 
took  no  notice  of  them.  That  pleased  me." 

"Why  should  I  have  taken  any  notice  of  them?"  I 
asked.  "They  were  two  plain  little  men." 

Wolfram  nearly  looked  shocked,  but  in  those  days 
everything  I  said  and  did  was  right  and  even  when  my 
sentiments  were  "free"  he  put  it  down  to  my  English- 
ness  and  forgave  me.  In  a  roundabout  way  though,  I 
gathered  that  a  well-brought-up  German  girl  would  never 
allude  to  two  lords  of  creation  who  were  also  in  uniform 
as  "plain  little  men."  All  those  ideas  of  his  are  easy 
to  explain  and  make  fun  of ;  but  it  is  not  at  all  easy  to 
convey  his  charm  to  you  or  explain  why  I  was  ready 
to  marry  him.  I  can  only  tell  you  that  his  whole  nature 
seemed  to  me  like  his  looks.  At  first  you  saw  what 
was  hard  and  arrogant,  but  when  you  probed  a  little 
deeper  you  found  depths  of  kindness  and  affection.  I 
never  quite  knew  which  side  of  him  was  going  to  govern 
his  behavior  and  I  foresaw  that  he  would  not  be  easy 
to  live  with ;  but  I  believed  in  his  love  for  me  and  hoped 
it  would  be  enough.  In  fact,  we  married  with  our  eyes 
open,  both  knowing  that  there  might  be  breakers  ahead; 


68  THE  DEVIL'S  CRADLE 

for  he  had  his  doubts  about  my  getting  on  with  his 
family  and  knuckling  down  to  the  traditions  of  Hohen- 
roda. 

"But  Hohenroda  is  your  father's  house,"  I  said. 

"Yes." 

"Then  we  shall  not  live  there." 

"I  thought  we  would  go  there  at  first.  There  is  plenty 
of  room." 

"I  shall  want  a  home  of  my  own." 

"You  shall  have  one  later;  but  our  little  Jagdschloss 
is  too  far  from  the  barracks  and  is  inconvenient.  Be- 
sides you  are  not  used  to  German  housekeeping." 

"I'm  an  excellent  housekeeper." 

"I'm  glad  to  hear  it,  but  I  never  see  you  employed  as 
my  mother  is,  in  affairs  of  the  house." 

"What  sort  of  affairs?" 

"I  cannot  tell  you  exactly ;  but  she  is  busy  from  morn- 
ing till  night  and  has  little  leisure  for  lighter  employments 
such  as  reading  and  music." 

"Is  she  short  of  servants  then?" 

"Not  at  all;  but  she  would  not  trust  them  with  the 
things  she  performs  with  her  own  hands.  Besides,  even 
the  supervision  of  a  house  like  Hohenroda  occupies 
much  time  and  requires  great  patience  and  knowledge." 

"But  we  might  have  a  little  house,"  I  suggested.  "I 
should  like  to  go  to  Hohenroda  for  a  time  until  we  find 
a  place  of  our  own.  I  suppose  we  could  find  something 
a  few  miles  from  Reichenstadt :  an  oldish  house  if  pos- 
sible with  a  good  garden.  We'll  have  Max  with  us  and 
I'll  feed  him  up  and  see  that  he  isn't  over-worked." 

Wolfram  looked  stirred  to  the  depths  and  more  dis- 
sentient than  I  had  ever  seen  him. 

"Max    is    at  the    Gymnasium    every    day,"    he    said. 


THE  DEVIL'S  CRADLE  69 

"When  he  comes  home  he  has  several  hours  of  prepara- 
tion with  his  tutor.  A  boy  must  work." 

"But  not  over-work." 

"There  can  be  no  such  thing  as  over-work  for  a  boy 
of  his  age,"  he  explained ;  and  I  had  to  leave  it  at  that. 
But  you  must  understand  that  when  I  married  Wolfram 
I  knew  it  would  be  pull  devil,  pull  baker.  We  had  quite 
different  views  of  life  and  time  alone  could  show  which 
prevailed. 

XIV 

I  DID  love  him  though,  and  as  I  still  knew  very  little 
of  Germany  I  made  light  of  the  difficulties  before 
me.  I  used  to  have  an  idea  that  people  were  much 
the  same  everywhere  and  that  a  really  broad-minded 
citizen  of  the  world  could  accommodate  himself  or  her- 
self to  the  habits  and  opinions  of  any  other  civilized 
nation.  You  know  the  kind  of  windy  stuff  that  was 
spreading  like  an  epidemic  amongst  the  young  before 
the  war.  I'm  afraid  that  I  went  through  a  phase  of 
exalting  other  countries  at  the  expense  of  my  own  and 
feeling  superior  and  generous  when  I  did  so.  I  was 
ready  to  think  that  the  Germans  did  everything  well 
and  that  we  did  everything  badly,  but  even  on  the  way 
out,  as  I  talked  to  Max,  I  had  discovered  that  my  heart- 
strings were  securely  tied  to  my  own  country  and  felt 
it  tugging  at  them  quite  vehemently  sometimes.  Yet  I 
married  Wolfram  although  I  agreed  with  Dad  and  with 
him  when  they  said  that  as  a  rule  international  mar- 
miages  were  a  mistake. 

"Ours  will  be  the  exception  that  proves  the  rule,"  he 
assured  me.  "You  will  become  a  good  German." 


70  THE  DEVIL'S  CRADLE 

"Would  you  give  up  your  country?"  I  asked,  although 
I  knew  it  was  putting  a  match  to  fireworks.  He  exploded 
at  once. 

"I !  I  am  a  man,  a  Hohenroda,"  he  exclaimed.  "If 
anyone  else  asked  me  such  a  question  I  should  consider 
it  an  insult." 

"You  don't  know  English  proverbs,  do  you?  We  say 
that  what  is  sauce  for  the  goose  is  sauce  for  the  gander." 

"It  is  not  a  proverb  that  carries  one  far,"  he  said 
after  prolonged  meditation.  "Nature  has  ordained  other- 
wise." 

We  were  spending  our  honeymoon  in  Paris  and  en- 
joying ourselves  immensely.  Our  wedding  had  not  been 
all  that  Wolfram  wished  because  none  of  his  family 
had  come  over  for  it  and  we,  on  our  side,  had  not  pro- 
duced a  great  many  people.  The  whole  thing  was 
planned  and  executed  in  a  hurry  because  of  Dad's 
American  journey  so  that  the  moment  Wolfram  got  the 
necessary  papers  and  permissions  we  just  got  married 
without  any  Polterabend,  or  home-made  poems  or 
banquets  or  bridesmaids  or  speeches.  I  wore  a  filmy 
white  dress  that  was  threaded  with  silver  and  I  felt 
happy  and  excited  about  Wolfram,  but  down  in  the 
mouth  about  leaving  Dad  and  England.  It  certainly  was 
unlucky  that  Wolfram  should  be  a  German  and  unable 
to  live  in  my  country,  but  I  was  not  without  a  hidden 
hope  of  persuading  him  some  day  to  have  a  home  here 
and  divide  our  time  between  his  land  and  mine.  It 
seemed  a  fairer  plan  than  wanting  me  to  forsake  everyone 
and  everything  for  his  sake  although  of  course  I  knew 
that  women  are  expected  to  do  this  when  they  marry. 
But  a  great  many  things  are  expected  of  women  that 
they  would  rather  not  do  if  they  could  help  it.  How- 


THE  DEVIL'S  CRADLE  71 

ever,  when  I  expounded  these  sentiments  to  Wolfram 
he  looked  horrified  and  hoped  I  should  never  say  any- 
thing so  upsetting  at  Hohenroda  because  he  was  most 
anxious  that  everyone  there  should  have  the  highest 
opinion  of  me. 

"But  I  have  married  you  and  not  everyone  at  Hohen- 
roda," I  pointed  out.  "As  long  as  we  are  happy  together 
what  does  anyone  else  matter?" 

He  evidently  could  not  take  that  point  of  view  and 
as  the  time  came  near  for  us  to  go  back  to  Germany 
I  often  found  him  looking  at  me  anxiously. 

"I  should  never  forgive  myself  if  you  were  unhappy," 
he  said  one  day.  "I  fear  that  my  first  wife  was  not 
always  happy,  but  then  ..." 

"What  then,  Wolfram?" 

"It  was  different.  I  married  for  family  reasons.  My 
father  insisted  and  I  was  a  boy  of  twenty  ...  it  was 
a  wrong  to  us  both." 

"Did  your  father  and  mother  approve  of  your  second 
marriage?"  I  asked,  for  he  had  never  told  me,  and  I 
wondered  why  no  one  came  to  the  wedding. 

"They  did  not,"  he  said  after  a  pause.  "You  may  as 
well  know  it  and  then  you  can  apply  yourself  to  winning 
their  affection." 

"H m,"  I  said.    "Why  did  they  disapprove?" 

"In  the  first  place  you  are  English." 

"What  have  they  got  against  the  English  ?" 

"I  can't  tell  you  that  in  two  words.  The  English  are 
not  liked  in  Germany." 

It  was  on  the  tip  of  my  tongue  to  say  that  they  were 
imitated,  but  I  refrained  and  said  I  understood  his 
firstly  and  now  wanted  his  secondly. 

"You  are  burgerUch,"  he  said.    You  are  not  von  Adel, 


72  THE  DEVIL'S  CRADLE 

but  they  know  that  in  England  there  is  no  strict  dividing 
line  as  there  is  with  us.    It  makes  a  difference." 

"Does  it?" 

"Of  course  it  does.  In  England  you  can  hardly  say 
who  belongs  to  the  aristocracy  and  who  does  not." 

"Wilkins  knows  exactly,"  I  told  him.  "Before  she 
came  to  Mother  she  lived  with  a  Duchess.  It  has  im- 
parted an  exclusive  flavor  to  her  views  and  conversa- 
tion that  has  not  worn  itself  out  yet." 

"I  have  told  my  mother  that  you  are  bringing  your 
English  maid,"  said  Wolfram.  "She  mentions  it  in  the 
letter  I  had  this  morning  and  asks  if  she  will  require 
a  girl  to  wait  on  her?" 

"Why  should  she?" 

"The  idea  in  Germany  is  that  English  servants  do  no 
work.  I  shall  answer  that  these  matters  can  be  settled 
after  our  arrival.  I  am  sure  that  you  will  adopt  our 
ways  and  become  a  good  German." 

I  was  so  much  in  love  with  my  husband  that  I  was 
ready  to  do  most  things  for  his  sake  and  in  theory,  when 
you  have  given  a  man  yourself,  you  may  as  well  give 
him  your  patriotism  also.  But  in  practice  you  find 
that  you  cannot.  Deep  down  beneath  the  new  affection 
lived  the  old  bias  and  the  old  ideas  that  had  roots  in 
heritage  and  hearsay  as  well  as  in  experience.  All  my 
ancestors  has  been  English.  Every  drop  of  my  blood 
was  English,  and  I  knew  that  if  I  stayed  in  my  hus- 
band's country  to  the  day  of  my  death,  I  should  die 
as  I  had  lived,  English  to  my  heart's  core.  But  it  was 
no  use  saying  so.  Wolfram  would  only  have  begun  to 
argue  and  in  argument  he  always  got  the  best  of  it  be- 
cause he  was  so  well  informed.  He  would  have  given 
me  biological,  psychological,  historical  and  legal  reasons 


THE  DEVIL'S  CRADLE  73 

why  a  woman  should  always  be  of  her  husband's  coun- 
try and  faith  and  why  in  cases  where  she  is  not  born 
so  she  should  change  over  to  his  side  as  quickly  as 
possible:  and  I  could  neither  have  confuted  his  reasons 
nor  have  been  affected  by  them — a  state  of  mind  that 
is  disturbing  to  both  parties.  So  I  changed  the  subject 
and  asked  him  to  tell  me  as  much  as  he  could  about  our 
life  at  Hohenroda. 

I  had  seen  photographs  of  the  castle  and  knew  that 
it  had  quaint  pointed  turrets  at  various  elevations,  gabled 
roofs,  dormer  windows  and  an  imposing  stone  gateway. 
There  seemed  to  be  no  park  or  garden  near  it,  but  only 
forest  coming  to  within  a  stone's  throw  of  its  doors. 
But  Wolfram  said  there  were  gardens  on  the  side  I 
could  not  see  and  that  I  could  probably  have  a  corner 
to  myself  if  I  wished  and  grow  my  own  roses.  He 
hoped  that  I  should  not  find  the  life  there  dull. 

"I'll  tell  you  if  I  do,"  I  said.  "I  should  not  like  a 
dull  life  at  all." 

"One  must  make  occupations." 

"I  can  have  a  car  of  my  own  and  go  into  Reichenstadt 
a  good  deal,"  I  said. 

"When  I  said  occupations  I  meant  duties,"  he  ex- 
plained. "I  should  not  like  you  to  go  in  and  out  of 
Reichenstadt  much  without  me." 

"Why  not?" 

"It  would  excite  comment.  A  young  married  woman 
cannot  be  too  careful." 

"That  does  sound  dull,"  I  said. 


74  THE  DEVIL'S  CRADLE 


XV 

WOLFRAM'S  car  met  us  at  Reichenstadt  and  Max 
was  on  the  platform  with  a  bunch  of  roses 
that  he  presented  to  me  when  he  had  put  his 
heels  together  and  made  the  orthodox  bow.  I  bent 
down  and  kissed  him. 

"Has  Herr  Putzer  given  you  a  holiday  then?"  said 
Wolfram. 

The  boy  shook  his  head  and  looked  at  me. 

"I  saw  the  car  starting  and  I  jumped  in,"  he  said. 
"It  was  a  sudden  idea." 

"How  ripping!"  I  said. 

"He  will  probably  be  punished  when  he  gets  back," 
said  Worfram  dryly. 

"But  you  will  say  he  is  not  to  be  punished." 

"I  do  not  interfere  between  Putzer  and  Max.  It  is 
not  fair  to  a  teacher  to  do  so." 

"It  depends,"  I  began  and  then  I  stopped,  for  by 
that  time  I  was  sitting  next  to  Wolfram  in  the  car  so 
that  I  could  only  see  his  profile  and  when  that  happened 
I  usually  got  back  to  my  first  impression  of  some- 
thing hard  in  his  nature  that  his  whole  training  had 
fostered  and  increased.  Perhaps  his  being  in  uniform 
again  assisted.  At  any  rate  he  did  not  take  my  sug- 
gestion smilingly,  but  looked  straight  ahead  in  a  way 
that  showed  me  he  was  not  pleased.  So  I  turned  to 
Max  and  asked  him  what  he  had  been  doing  lately.  In 
some  ways  I  could  see.  He  looked  paler  and  thinner 
and  when  the  first  excitement  of  meeting  us  was  over 
he  turned  very  quiet  again  as  if  he  felt  too  tired  to 
speak. 


THE  DEVIL'S  CRADLE  75 

"When  do  the  summer  holidays  begin?"  I  asked. 

"They  are  over,"  said  the  boy  with  a  sigh. 

"Over!     In  August!" 

"I  had  holidays  in  May  when  I  visited  my  grand- 
parents in  Koln." 

"In  Germany  boys  have  to  work,"  Wolfram  said  to 
me.  "They  have  difficult  examinations  to  pass.  Other- 
wise they  cannot  keep  their  place  in  the  world.  Max 
was  so  delicate  as  a  child  that  he  is  seriously  behind- 
hand. It  gives  us  cause  for  anxiety  and  we  do  not 
allow  anything  or  anyone  to  hinder  his  studies." 

I've  had  no  sisters  and  brothers  so  I  know  little 
enough  of  children,  but  as  I've  eyes  in  my  head  I  could 
see  that  Max  was  still  delicate  and  that  in  all  probability 
a  breakdown  of  some  kind  would  hinder  his  studies 
before  long.  However,  I  could  not  say  so  just  then,  so 
I  sniffed  at  my  roses,  looked  at  the  scenery  and  made 
Max  laugh  by  talking  German  to  him. 

"You  talk  remarkably  bad  German,"  he  said. 

"Max!"  exclaimed  Wolfram,  but  the  boy  and  I  were 
giggling  at  each  other  and  paid  no  attention  to  him. 

"I  don't  think  much  of  your  English,"  I  said,  "I'll  give 
you  lessons." 

He  looked  rather  depressed  at  that  and  said  it  would 
be  very  agreeable  to  study  English  with  me  if  his  time- 
table would  admit  of  it,  but  it  was  so  full  already  that 
he  would  certainly  have  to  sit  up  till  midnight  in  order 
to  catch  up  the  time  he  had  lost  this  afternoon.  Then 
we  both  looked  at  the  forest  through  which  a  winding 
uphill  road  was  leading  us  and  I  asked  him  if  he  knew 
his  way  about  it  and  would  take  me  for  walks.  I 
thought  it  looked  a  dull  kind  of  forest,  for  the  trees 
were  all  of  the  same  sort  and  planted  in  straight  rows 


76  THE  DEVIL'S  CRADLE 

so  that  you  could  fancy  the  forester  telling  them  they 
must  grow  just  as  they  were  ordered  or  they  would 
not  keep  their  places  in  the  world.  There  were  no 
ragged  edges  and  no  undergrowth  and  no  rocks  or 
streams  on  the  way  to  the  castle  and  Wolfram  told  me 
that  this  part  of  the  property  was  of  great  value  and 
the  pride  of  his  father's  heart,  but  that  I  should  find 
wilder  country  a  little  way  off  where  it  was  impossible 
to  plant  satisfactory  forest  because  the  rocks  and  caves 
and  streams  were  unmanageable.  I  found  the  miles  of 
silent  monotonous  trees  very  stuffy  and  gloomy  on  this 
late  breathless  afternoon  and  I  hoped  that  round  the 
castle  itself  there  would  be  more  light  and  air.  We 
came  upon  it  quite  suddenly  and  I  felt  so  thrilled  that 
I  turned  to  Wolfram  and  clutched  his  arm. 

"It's  lovely,"  I  cried.  "It's  a  castle  in  a  fairy  tale. 
kYou  are  the  prince  and  I  am  the  princess  and  Max  is 
our  son.  I  hope  there  are  no  ogres." 

"What  are  ogres?"  asked  Max. 

"They  eat  children,"  I  said  and  then  all  my  faculties 
were  engaged  in  getting  impressions  of  my  new  home 
and  of  the  people  assembled  to  receive  us.  We  had 
driven  in  under  the  heavy  stone  gateway  and  I  saw  that 
the  castle  itself  was  built  on  and  into  rock  and  com- 
manded an  unbroken  view  of  the  valley  and  the  river 
Roda.  But  from  the  heights  on  which  we  stood  until 
the  eye  reached  the  valley,  it  rested  on  undulating  forest. 
On  the  top  of  a  high  flight  of  ancient  steps  stood  a 
group  consisting  of  the  Graf  and  Grafin,  Herr  Putzer, 
the  tutor,  and  various  servants  of  the  estate  and  of  the 
household.  I  had  a  confused  impression  of  glances, 
kisses,  handshakes,  curtsies,  stammering  German  on  my 
part  and  fluent  stilted  English  on  the  other.  The  Grafin 


THE  DEVIL'S  CRADLE  77 

was  large,  fair,  plain  and  dignified.  The  Graf  was  like 
his  photograph  and  his  voice  reminded  me  of  Fafner's. 
He  stared  at  my  maid,  who  was  coming  towards  the  steps 
and  said  in  a  tone  of  surprise: 

"Who  is  this,  then?" 

"It's  only  Wilkins,  my  maid,"  I  said.  She  had  fol- 
lowed us  in  a  taxi  with  my  trunks  and  now  stood  at 
the  bottom  of  the  flight  of  steps,  clutching  my  dressing- 
case  and  looking  forlorn. 

The  Graf  turned  on  his  heel  and  went  inside.  We 
followed  him,  but  not  until  I  had  introduced  Wilkins  to 
a  young  woman  Wolfram  called  the  Mamsell.  He  said 
she  would  look  after  her,  but  as  she  evidently  did  not 
know  a  word  of  English  I  wondered  what  would  hap- 
pen. Wilkins  was  devoted  to  me  and  an  excellent  maid, 
but  she  had  a  tiresome  side  and  when  I  told  her  to 
say  Ja  if  she  meant  Yes,  had  bridled  in  an  irritating  way 
and  pointed  out  that  she  had  been  brought  up  to  con- 
sider Yah!  a  vulgar  expression  only  used  by  the  lower 
classes. 

"Of  course  you  mustn't  put  your  tongue  out  and  say 
it  in  a  defiant  tone,"  I  explained.  "You  just  say  Ja 
gently  and  firmly  when  you  want  a  thing.  When  you 
don't  want  it  you  say,  Nein." 

"Nine !"  echoed  Wilkins.  "What  a  peculiar  language ! 
Why  not  ten?" 

I  had  brought  Wilkins  because  she  had  been  with  us 
for  years  and  wished  to  come.  But  I  had  my  doubts 
of  the  experiment  being  a  wise  one  or  likely  to  last: 
for  I  knew  she  was  hide-bound.  I  had  told  her  she 
must  understand  that  everything  would  be  a  little  differ- 
ent, but  she  had  only  replied  that  she  supposed  German 
gentry  were  like  gentry  everywhere  else  and  knew  what 


78  THE  DEVIL'S  CRADLE 

was  expected.  She  approved  of  Wolfram,  especially 
when  he  got  back  into  uniform:  but  she  did  not  think 
much  of  his  title.  She  had  always  understood,  she  said, 
that  foreign  Counts  were  bogus  or  pinchbeck  and  she 
hoped  I  should  not  find  when  I  got  to  Germany  that 
after  all  I  was  only  a  Mrs.  Brown  or  Smith.  You  see 
Wilkins  had  been  my  mother's  maid  and  known  me  as  a 
child  so  she  took  dreadful  liberties. 

The  Grafin  had  led  us  into  a  room  that  had  a  splendid 
view  from  its  windows  and  was  comfortably  furnished 
in  a  solid  old-fashioned  way.  Max  and  his  pasty-faced 
tutor  had  vanished,  but  the  Graf  sat  down  with  us  and 
lighted  a  cigar.  Tea  was  brought  in  almost  immediately 
with  a  variety  of  rich  small  cakes  and  savory  sand- 
wiches that  I  thought  delicious  and  ate  hungrily.  This 
evidently  pleased  by  mother-in-law  and  she  said  that  if 
I  would  give  her  some  recipes  she  would  have  some 
English  cakes  made  for  me  so  that  I  should  feel  at 
home.  I  said  that  I  liked  her  cakes  better  than  ours  and 
Wolfram  smiled  at  me  approvingly  and  told  me  after- 
wards that  I  had  been  most  tactful.  For  the  first  few 
minutes  I  got  on  extremely  well. 

But  the  Graf  was  not  as  kindly  as  his  wife.  He  sat 
there  and  stared,  smoked,  cleared  his  throat  and  looked 
as  if  something  annoyed  him.  He  was  bigger  than  Wol- 
fram and  still  more  powerfully  made,  but  his  head  was 
small  for  his  body.  He  had  a  heavy  jaw,  beetling  brows 
and  big  ears  that  stuck  out  on  either  side  of  his  cropped 
head.  His  neck  was  coarse  and  red,  his  big  hands  were 
hairy  and  his  eyes  were  aslant  and  watchful. 

"So  you  have  been  in  Paris?"  he  said,  addressing  us 
both. 


THE  DEVIL'S  CRADLE  79 

"Yes;  we  have  been  in  Paris  for  a  fortnight,"  said 
Wolfram. 

"I  was  there  in  1871,"  said  his  father. 

"Have  you  never  been  since?"  I  asked. 

"Never!     What  should  I  make  in  Paris?" 

"But  in  1871  it  must  have  looked  unlike  itself." 

"It  looked  as  we  wished  to  see  it  ...  as  we  shall 
see  it  again." 

"Oh!    I  hope  not,"  I  cried. 

"Why  should  you  hope  not?  You  are  not  French. 
What  is  Paris  to  you?" 

Just  then  it  was  a  crowded  vivid  memory,  gay,  friendly, 
smiling.  The  thought  of  it  at  the  mercy  of  such  men 
as  this  made  me  feel  creepy. 

"I  will  take  you  to  your  rooms  now,"  said  the  Grafin, 
who,  no  doubt,  knew  the  signs  of  bad  weather  in  her 
husband's  manner  and  wished  to  ward  off  a  storm.  We 
went  through  a  large  stone-flagged  hall  together,  where 
there  were  suits  of  armor  and  old  wooden  tables  on 
trestles  and  then  up  a  winding  staircase  to  the  first 
floor.  I  found  that  a  whole  row  of  rooms  had  been  got 
ready  for  us  and  that  we  should  each  have  a  sitting- 
room  of  our  own  as  well  as  bedrooms  and  dressing- 
rooms.  There  were  some  fine  bits  of  old  furniture 
about,  but  the  rooms  were  so  big  that  the  general  effect 
was  bare  and  austere.  There  were  no  carpets  but  only 
small  rugs  here  and  there,  and  though  the  evening  at 
this  height  was  chilly  there  were  no  fires.  Wolfram  had 
not  come  with  us  and  Wilkins  was  nowhere  to  be  seen: 
and  for  just  a  moment  I  felt  chilled  and  strange.  But 
I  did  not  wish  the  Grafin  to  see  it  so  I  went  up  to  a 
portrait  in  oils  in  the  room  she  said  she  had  arranged 
for  her  son  and  asked  her  who  it  was. 


8o  THE  DEVIL'S  CRADLE 

"That  is  a  portrait  of  my  daughter-in-law,  Helene," 
said  the  Grafin.  "My  son's  first  wife,  the  mother  of 
Max.  She  was  an  Eschenau." 

Poor  little  thing!  Unless  the  artist  had  maligned  her 
she  must  have  been  extraordinarily  plain  and  crushed- 
looking. 

"Is  it  a  good  likeness?"  I  asked. 

"An  excellent  likeness,"  said  the  Grafin,  closing  her 
lips  tightly  when  she  had  spoken.  "Her  death  was  an 
irreparable  calamity  for  our  family." 

That  was  a  difficult  sentiment  for  me  to  comment  upon 
so  I  did  not  try ;  and  while  we  were  still  standing  silently 
in  front  of  the  portrait  the  little  Mamsell  burst  into  the 
room  in  a  state  of  excitement  that  her  respect  for  the 
Grafin  could  not  quite  control. 


XVI 

SHE  says  Nein,"  cried  the  little  Mamsell,  "I  offer 
her  coffee  and  she  says  Nein;  I  lead  her  to  her 
room  and  she  stands  in  the  doorway  and  says 
Nein;  then  she  goes  in  and  sits  down;  but  so  does  she 
sit." 

And  the  little  Mamsell  plumped  herself  down  on  the 
edge  of  a  chair  with  her  hands  folded  in  her  lap,  her 
chin  at  a  defiant  angle  and  her  mobile  mouth  trying 
to  fix  itself  in  imitation  of  Wilkins  when  she  is  most 
stiff-necked  and  disagreeable.  I  could  not  help  laughing. 
"She  feels  strange,"  I  said.  "Where  is  her  room?  I 
will  go  and  speak  to  her." 

"Gnadige    Frau    understands    German!      I    did    not 
know." 


THE  DEVIL'S  CRADLE  8l 

The  little  Mamsell  looked  disconcerted  and  apologetic. 

"Your  maid's  room  is  in  the  servants'  quarters,"  said 
the  Grafin.  "If  you  require  her  you  will  ring." 

"Then  someone  will  tell  her  that  Gnadige  Frau  has 
rung  and  she  will  immediately  appear,"  said  Mamsell. 

I  rang.     We  waited.     Nothing  happened. 

"She  is  probably  saying  Nein,"  murmured  the  little 
Mamsell. 

I  had  sat  down  and  was  curious  to  see  what  the  Grafin 
would  do.  As  she  seemed  unwilling  to  take  me  to 
Wilkins  I  thought  it  was  up  to  her  to  bring  Wilkins  to 
me. 

"It  is  very  inconvenient,"  she  murmured.  "A  foreigner 
makes  much  confusion  in  a  house.  The  servants  are 
busy  at  this  hour  and  cannot  spend  their  time  as  guides." 

"I  also  am  busy,"  said  Mamsell.  "Frau  Grafin  knows 
how  I  am  busy.  Have  I  leave  to  go  ?" 

My  mother-in-law  dismissed  her  with  a  nod  and  then 
turned  to  me.  By  this  time  we  had  all  tried  ringing 
the  bell,  but  with  no  result. 

"I  will  take  you  to  your  maid's  room  and  we  shall 
find  out  what  has  happened,"  she  said  and  I  could  see 
that  she  was  annoyed. 

It  was  a  summer  evening  and  quite  light  out  of 
doors  still,  but  not  in  the  part  of  the  Castle  through  which 
I  was  now  led.  However,  it  was  all  lighted  by  electric 
light  so  I  was  able  to  follow  the  Grafin  through  narrow 
corridors  and  down  breakneck  stone  staircases  without 
coming  to  grief.  But  I  thought  that  if  Wilkins  was 
going  to  be  established  so  far  away  from  me  she  might 
as  well  be  in  England.  At  last  we  came  to  a  row  of 
little  doors  in  a  gloomy  underground  passage  and  found 
Wilkins  sitting  in  a  room  that  had  a  bedstead  and  a 


82  THE  DEVIL'S  CRADLE 

hanging  cupboard  in  it,  but  which  on  the  whole  looked 
like  a  prison  cell  in  a  very  old  prison.  The  floor  was 
of  stone  and  the  only  window  was  a  small  one  high  up 
near  the  ceilling. 

.  "If  you  please,  m'm,  I  should  wish  to  return  to 
England  at  once,"  said  Wilkins,  rising  as  we  entered. 
"I  could  not  sleep  here." 

"It's  a  very  interesting  room,  Wilkins,"  I  said,  glancing 
round.  "It  is  more  than  800  years  old." 

"So  I  should  think,  m'm." 

"It  has  a  vaulted  roof  like  the  crypt  of  a  church." 

Wilkins  shuddered. 

"Bats!"  she  said.  "Bats  and  rats,  I  feel  sure.  Be- 
sides, I  have  never  lived  where  people  had  no  wash- 
stands  and  were  so  put  to  it  that  they  used  tombstones. 
Poverty-stricken,  I  consider,  and  comfortless." 

I  had  not  noticed  the  washstand,  but  now  I  saw  that 
a  jug  and  basin  were  placed  on  a  slab  of  stone  built 
against  the  wall  and  probably  used  at  one  time  as  a 
table. 

"Did  no  one  tell  you  that  your  mistress  had  rung?" 
said  the  Grafin,  looking  at  her  with  dislike  and  speaking 
in  a  dictatorial  manner. 

Wilkins  said  gloomily  that  people  had  been  in,  br.t 
she  had  not  understood  what  they  said.  Someone  had 
offered  her  coffee,  but  she  was  not  accustomed  to  coffee 
at  this  hour  in  the  evening  and  if  I  pleased  she  would 
unpack  my  trunks  and  leave  me  comfortable  before 
beginning  her  return  journey.  It  would  take  her  all 
night,  but  that  did  not  matter  since  she  would  not  be 
able  to  close  an  eye  down  here  even  if  she  went  to 
bed :  which,  however,  no  one  should  persuade  her  to  do. 

Of  course  I  knew  Wilkins  through  and  through.    She 


THE  DEVIL'S  CRADLE  83 

no  more  meant  to  leave  me  than  I  meant  to  let  her 
go.  She  only  wished  to  inform  me  that  she  was  not 
pleased  with  her  room,  that  the  staring,  chattering  for- 
eign servants  worried  her  and  that  she  badly  wanted  a 
cup  of  tea.  I  got  her  back  to  my  quarters  and  when 
Wolfram  came  up  I  explained  the  state  of  affairs  and 
asked  him  if  he  thought  we  might  put  her  into  one  of 
the  rooms  close  to  our  own.  In  fact  there  was  one 
opening  out  of  my  dressing-room  that  would  suit  exactly. 

"Why  not?"  said  Wolfram.  "We  will  explain  to  my 
mother  that  you  wish  to  have  her  close  to  you." 

"I  must  teach  her  German  quickly,"  I  said,  "then  she 
can  talk  to  the  little  Mamsell." 

Wolfram  said  I  need  not  give  myself  that  trouble 
because  before  Wilkins  had  learned  a  dozen  words  the 
Mamsell  would  be  talking  English  to  her.  This  would 
happen  inevitably  because  all  Germans  were  intelligent 
and  industrious  while  all  English  people  were  ignorant 
and  lazy. 

"I  wonder  whether  I  shall  ever  hear  a  pleasant  thing 
said  of  my  country  in  Germany,"  I  said.  "If  you  dis- 
like us  so  much  why  do  so  many  of  you  come  to 
England?" 

"To  make  money." 

"But  you  remain  there,  from  generation  to  genera- 
tion, and  the  second  generation  is  as  English  in  its  sympa- 
thies as  I  am." 

"Let  us  talk  of  something  else,"  said  Wolfram.  "I 
want  you  to  wear  your  flame-colored  dress  to-night." 

I  would  not  do  that  because  it  was  quite  unsuitable, 
but  I  put  on  a  white  embroidered  muslin  with  blue  rib- 
bons and  asked  him  if  I  didn't  look  like  an  innocent 
woolly  lamb  in  it  to  whom  everyone  would  wish  to  be 


84  THE  DEVIL'S  CRADLE 

kind  even  though  I  said  Baa  in  English  instead  of  in 
German.  We  had  a  happy  hour  up  there  together,  oc- 
casionally interrupted  by  Wilkins;  and  I  am  sure  she 
was  happy,  too,  because  she  was  able  to  have  a  really 
satisfying  growl  at  everyone  and  everything. 

"What  is  she  so  discontented  about?"  said  Wolfram 
when  she  had  been  in  to  tell  me  that  my  valuable  laces 
would  certainly  get  mildewed  if  they  were  not  protected 
from  damp.  "In  Germany  our  servants  have  not  so 
much  to  say.  You  spoil  her,  Karen.  Let  me  speak  to 
her  next  time  she  appears." 

I  let  him.     I  knew  what  would  happen. 

"Vilkins !"  he  began  sternly  and  she  looked  as  pleased 
as  possible  and  smiled.  She  always  smiled  when  he 
addressed  her  as  Vilkins.  Wolfram  spoke  English  easily 
and  correctly,  but  he  made  v's  of  our  w's  and  Wilkins 
took  that  as  a  joke.  I  am  not  going  to  attempt  to 
reproduce  his  accent  as  a  rule  because  it  would  be 
tedious  and  misleading.  I  got  so  used  to  it  that  I  hardly 
noticed  it  except  in  the  case  of  a  name  or  a  misunder- 
standing. 

"Vilkins,"  he  said,  "vot  are  you  crumbling  about?" 
Haf  you  nefer  been  in  an  old  castle  before?" 

"Not  in  one  like  this,  sir,"  said  Wilkins.  "I  lived 
with  Lady  Sawyer  before  I  went  to  the  Duchess,  but 
Lord  Sawyer  built  his  own  castle  and  everything  was 
most  convenient.  He  was  a  gentleman  who  overlooked 
nothing  from  hot  and  cold  in  the  servants'  rooms  to 
model  ruins  in  the  park." 

"Who  is  Lord  Sawyer?"  said  Wolfram,  turning  to  me. 

"Soap!"  I  whispered,  so  Wolfram  laughed  and  I 
laughed  and  Wolfram  told  Wilkins  that  she  would  soon 


THE  DEVIL'S  CRADLE  85 

get  used  to  things  and  that  she  was  to  sleep  in  the  room 
next  to  one  of  ours. 

"I  suppose  I  shall  have  to  find  out  about  these,"  she 
said,  looking  with  great  distaste  at  the  majolica  stove  in 
one  corner  of  my  sitting-room. 

"There  is  nothing  to  find  out,"  said  Wolfram.  "You 
put  fuel  in  and  they  warm  the  air  day  and  night  as 
your  English  grates  never  do.  You  will  discover  what 
it  is  to  have  a  room  evenly  and  comfortably  warm." 

"What  about  hygiene,  sir?" 

"Nothing  about  it.  If  you  had  good  health  in  England 
you  will  have  good  health  in  Germany.  Do  we  look  as 
if  we  were  sick?  And  when  winter  comes  you  must 
leave  your  door  open  at  night  because  we  burn  a  great 
deal  of  turf  and  old  Michael  comes  round  at  three 
o'clock  to  make  up  the  fires." 

"He  won't  make  up  my  fire,  sir.  I  should  consider 
it  indelicate." 

"Don't  be  silly.  He  comes  in  as  quiet  as  a  mouse  and 
you  won't  even  wake." 

Wilkins  gave  a  shriek  and  retired  hastily  to  the  neigh- 
boring room. 

"Now  you've  done  it,"  I  said,  "she  will  bar  and  bolt 
her  doors." 

"The  woman  is  a  fool,"  said  Wolfram. 


XVII 

SUPPER  was  served  in  a  small  pleasant  room  that 
Wolfram  told  me  they  used  when  they  were  by 
themselves,  and  Max  with  his  tutor,  Herr  Putzer, 
had  it  with  us.     Max  was  subdued  and  Herr  Putzer 


86  THE  DEVIL'S  CRADLE 

was  both  obsequious  and  agressive,  a  combination  I 
particularly  dislike.  He  was  a  badly  dressed  weedy 
young  man  with  a  thin  ragged  beard,  black  eyes  and 
spectacles.  I  daresay  he  did  wash,  but  he  looked  as  if 
he  had  never  washed  quite  enough.  His  manners  at 
table  were  far  from  good  and  I  was  surprised  that  the 
Hohenrodas  should  like  their  boy  to  be  under  his  care. 
But  when  I  said  so  to  Wolfram  he  laughed  and  told 
me  that  Herr  Putzer's  testimonials  had  satisfied  them  as 
to  his  learning  and  that  they  had  not  asked  how  he 
ate  his  sole  and  his  cheese. 

"He  shovels  things  into  his  mouth  with  his  knife. 
It  is  unpleasant  to  watch  him." 

"But  one  need  not  watch  him." 

"I  was  afraid  he  would  cut  himself." 

"You  need  not  be  afraid.  He  has  eaten  in  that  way 
since  he  was  a  child." 

"It  is  such  a  bad  example  for  Max." 

Wolfram  said  that  Max  never  took  his  eyes  off  me 
and  was  more  likely  to  imitate  me  than  Herr  Putzer. 
Everyone  in  Germany  admitted  that  the  English  had 
good  manners  at  table  although  in  other  places  such 
as  theaters  and  railway  carriages  their  conduct  left  much 
to  be  desired. 

We  had  an  excellent  supper  and  when  the  sweets 
were  served  we  had  champagne  in  which  our  health  was 
drunk  politely,  but  without  enthusiasm.  Herr  Putzer 
made  a  little  speech  to  the  honor  and  glory  of  the 
Hohenrodas,  but  the  only  allusion  to  me  in  it  seemed 
to  compliment  me  on  my  extraordinary  luck  in  belong- 
ing to  such  an  ancient  and  highly  placed  family.  The 
perversity  of  human  nature  made  me  want  to  reply 
that  there  was  luck  on  their  side  as  well  as  on  mine, 


THE  DEVIL'S  CRADLE  87 

but  I  could  not  trust  my  German  to  carry  on  an  argu- 
ment yet  or  to  express  any  sentiment  more  complicated 
than  a  desire  for  mustard  with  beef  and  salad  with 
chicken.  I  did  talk  more  or  less,  but  everyone  knows 
how  easy  it  is  comparatively,  to  make  yourself  plain 
about  concrete  objects  in  a  foreign  tongue  and  how 
difficult  it  is  to  hold  your  own  when  it  comes  to  a 
diversity  of  opinion.  Wolfram's  father  nodded  his  head 
once  or  twice  in  approval  of  the  speech  when  it  re- 
ferred in  flowery  language  to  the  departed  saint  who 
had  been  Wolfram's  first  wife  and  a  true  daughter  of 
Grmany,  toiling  night  and  day  as  a  woman  should  for 
the  welfare  of  the  men  she  served;  and  the  Grafin 
looked  as  if  she  was  being  stroked  the  right  way  when 
she  was  described  as  the  noble  lady  whose  blessed  duty 
it  had  been  to  mother  two  generations.  It  was  a  very 
rambling  speech  and  touched  on  many  subjects  I  knew 
nothing  about,  such  as  Max's  future  career  at  a  University 
and  Herr  Putzer's  hopes  of  an  extraordinary  professor- 
ship. In  those  days  I  didn't  even  know  that  according 
to  the  German  jargon  it  is  easier  to  be  an  extraordinary 
professor  than  an  ordinary  one  and  that  the  difference 
is  actually  that  between  a  free  lance  and  a  fixed  post. 
I  thought  he  was  a  conceited  little  man  and  was  re- 
minding us  of  his  extraordinary  learning,  but  I  am  sure 
I  did  him  no  injustice  in  other  ways. 

The  linen  and  glass  and  silver  on  the  table  were 
all  lovely,  but  the  only  flowers  were  cornflowers  and 
they  were  stuffed  into  a  vase  in  a  tight  bunch  such  as 
you  see  in  our  cottage  windows.  Wolfram's  father,  who 
was  built  like  a  giant,  ate  like  a  giant  and  he  took  no 
trouble  to  entertain  me  although  I  sat  next  to  him. 
He  consumed  mountains  of  food  and  a  whole  bottle 


THE  DEVIL'S  CRADLE 

of  light  wine:  and  when  he  did  look  at  me  or  speak  to 
me  I  thought  he  was  not  over- friendly.     My  ten  days' 
visit  to  the  Gutheims  had  not  given  me  much  insight 
into  German  opinion  and  I  had  no  idea  of  the  extent  to 
which  hatred  of  England  had  become  a  cult  with  all 
classes.     I  knew  that  in  England  people  watched  the 
growth  of  the  German  navy  with  misgivings,  but  I  had 
never  heard  Germans  talked  of  with  eyes  darting  gleams 
of  fury  and  lips  that  were  trembling  with  rage.     When 
I  told  Wilkins  that  Germans  did  not  eat  rabbits  she 
sniffed  and  said  "Ho!     I  shouldn't  have  thought  they 
were  so  particular,"  and  that  about  expressed  the  Eng- 
lish view  of  Germany  in  the  Wilkins  class  before  the 
war.     It  was   a  country  where   the  working-man  ate 
black-bread  and  had  to  serve  in  a  conscript  army,  and 
where  women  did  field  work  and  were  harnessed  with 
horses  to  a  plow.     In   a  more  educated  class   it  was 
a  country  of  great  progress  and  learning  that  wanted 
outlets   for  its   surplus   populations  and  unfortunately 
seemed  to  want  them  at  our  expense.    That  made  things 
difficult,  but  we  were  too  busy  with  our  own  affairs  to 
trouble  much  about  the  grievances  and  possible  designs  of 
a  foreign  country.    The  Germans  were  a  long  way  off 
and  the  militant  suffragettes  were  becoming  unmanage- 
able.    Sometimes  we  quoted  Bismarck's  saying  about  a 
war  between  England  and  Germany  being  like  a  war 
between  a  dog  and  a  fish,  but  we  very  rarely  thought  of 
the  matter  at  all.     It  was  astonishing  to  find  that  in 
Germany  people  thought  of  it  morning,  noon  and  night, 
and  that  a  little  nonentity  like  Herr  Putzer  was  boiling 
over  about  us.    At  least  I  made  the  mistake  of  thinking 
him  a  nonentity.    I  know  now  that  he  came  of  the  pastor 
and  professor  tribe  who  have  done  more  than  any  other 


THE  DEVIL'S  CRADLE  89 

to  foment  the  spirit  the  governing  class  required  for 
its  plans.  He  was  a  poison  bag,  poor  wretch:  always 
in  a  fizzle  and  always  charged  with  hatred.  It  must  be 
a  distressing  temperament,  bad  for  both  body  and  mind. 
We  had  some  deep  red  cherries  for  dessert  and  he  ate 
them,  but  he  ate  them  as  if  he  were  demolishing  an 
enemy  and  I  cannot  believe  that  he  really  enjoyed  either 
their  color  or  their  taste.  He  had  a  way,  I  found, 
of  asking  Max  questions  at  meals  about  what  had  been 
learned  in  school  hours  and  Max  had  just  put  his  foot 
into  it  by  saying  that  Lagos  was  in  the  Cameroons  and 
belonged  to  "Germany.  However,  he  thereby  gave  Herr 
Putzer  a  good  jumping-off  place  for  a  jaw  about  the 
crimes  of  England  and  her  policy  of  grab. 

"Why  don't  you  tell  him  he  is  talking  rubbish?"  I 
said  to  Wolfram.  "You  know  that  we  don't  spread 
plague  in  India  in  order  to  exterminate  the  natives." 

"It  is  generally  believed  in  Germany,"  said  Wolfram. 

"Then  you  must  be  generally  much  on  a  level  with 
Wilkins." 

Wolfram  fired  up  at  that  and  told  me  that  no  other 
nation  in  the  world  was  so  highly  educated  and  civilized 
as  the  German  nation  and  that  a  man  like  Herr  Putzer 
was  packed  with  knowledge  to  an  extent  that  I,  in  my 
ignorance,  could  not  gauge.  History  was  his  special 
subject,  history  and  contemporary  politics:  and  if  he 
said  we  let  loose  plague  and  famine  in  India  I  might 
rest  assured  that  he  had  chapter  and  verse  to  prove 
his  charge.  Could  I  disprove  it? 

I  could  not,  of  course.  I  could  only  say  it  was  not 
true  and  that  carried  no  conviction.  They  always  argued 
like  that ;  making  the  most  infamous  accusations  against 
England  and  then  saying  I  could  not  prove  them  to  be 


90  THE  DEVIL'S  CRADLE 

unfounded.  I  had  heard  one  version  and  they  had 
heard  or  invented  another  and  how  could  I  show  that 
my  faith  was  founded  on  fact  and  theirs  on  fiction? 
We  had  purposely  spread  measles  amongst  Boer  chil- 
dren in  our  internment  camps  during  the  Boer  war, 
for  instance.  Herr  Putzer  said  that  one  of  the  most 
eminent  professors  in  Berlin  had  told  him  so  and  what 
the  professor  said  was  true.  I  felt  inclined  to  tell  him 
that  what  the  professor  said  was  not  evidence,  but  you 
couldn't  make  fun  of  Herr  Putzer's  idols.  He  spluttered 
with  rage  if  you  did  and  launched  into  invective  that  I 
could  hardly  follow  as  yet.  I  used  to  think  of  Rudyard 
Kipling's  line  about  "the  meanest  breed  of  all"  when- 
ever I  saw  the  man.  But  I  took  his  learning  for  granted 
and  I  began  to  wonder  whether  the  British  Empire  had 
really  shaped  all  its  trade  and  all  its  politics  for  more 
than  a  hundred  years  with  a  view  to  crushing  Germany, 
because  if  we  had  greedily  stolen  the  greater  part  of 
the  world  why  should  we  want  to  crush? 

"It  must  be  annoying,"  I  conceded  on  that  evening 
when  I  first  drank  of  that  peculiar  vintage  made  known 
to  my  country  later  in  the  Hymn  of  Hate  and  other 
similar  explosions. 

"What  do  you  imagine  annoys  us,  Karen?"  said  my 
husband. 

"To  come  too  late.  To  see  us  in  possession  where 
you  wish  to  possess  yourselves.  I  wonder  what  can 
be  done." 

"Before  long  you  will  see  what  can  be  done,"  said 
Herr  Putzer  and  waggled  his  hand  at  Wolfram's  uni- 
form. "Eight  millions  of  those  eagles  will  show  you. 
Blood  will  be  shed.  We  shall  wade  through  blood  to 
our  rightful  place  in  the  world." 


THE  DEVIL'S  CRADLE  91 

I  shivered.  The  sun  had  set  and  we  were  lingering 
round  the  table  in  a  twilight  that  had  been  beautiful,  but 
had  turned  chill  and  sad. 

"I'll  sing  Max  a  Scotch  song  after  dinner,"  I  said. 
"It  goes: 

"I'll  tak'  the  high  road, 
And  you'll  tak'  the  low  road — " 

"Max  still  has  work  to  do,"  said  Herr  Putzer.  "He 
went  out  without  permission  this  afternoon  and  must 
make  up  for  lost  time." 

"Putzer  is  very  thorough,"  said  the  Graf  when  the 
horrid  little  man  had  departed  with  the  boy  in  tow.  "He 
does  not  spare  himself." 

"He  doesn't  seem  to  spare  Max  either,"  I  said  bluntly. 

The  Graf  looked  at  me  morosely,  but  did  not  speak 
and  soon  after  left  the  room.  His  wife  said  something 
about  coffee  and  followed  him. 

"You  give  your  opinions  too  freely,"  said  Wolfram 
with  a  sigh.  "I  feared  it  would  happen." 

"It  will  happen  over  and  over  again  as  long  as  I  see 
Max  looking  ill  and  miserable.  Haven't  you  eyes  in 
your  head,  Wolfram?" 

"Certainly  I  have  eyes,  but  as  I  have  told  you  already 
Max  is  an  Eschenau." 

Of  course  I  wanted  to  say,  "Damn  the  Eschenaus !"  but 
I  was  too  prudent.  I  can  be  prudent.  I  tried  to  con- 
vince Wolfram  that  Max  was  going  to  the  dogs  and 
failed  utterly.  He  said  I  knew  nothing  about  the  educa- 
tion and  the  health  of  the  young  and  that  I  must  always 
remember  that  Max  was  an  Eschenau. 


92  THE  DEVIL'S  CRADLE 


XVIII 

A  first  I  liked  everything  and  everyone  at  Hohen- 
roda  except  Herr  Putzer.  That  is  an  over- 
statement. I  never  liked  the  Graf,  but  I  saw 
nothing  of  him,  except  at  table  when  his  persistent 
grumpy  unfriendliness  created  a  chill.  He  was  busy 
all  day  with  his  land  and  seemed  to  know  a  great  deal 
about  forestry  and  farming.  If  I  could  have  taken 
an  ardent  interest  in  potatoes  I  might  possibly  have 
made  friends  with  him,  but  unfortunately  we  had  a 
difference  of  opinion  about  some  of  his  new  ones  that 
he  never  forgave  me.  They  were  floury  and  I  said  I 
did  not  like  new  potatoes  that  were  floury.  How  was 
I  to  know  that  we  had  been  eating  a  kind  in  which  he 
took  an  especial  pride  and  had  called  after  himself,  Hohen- 
roda?  I  was  asked  if  I  liked  them  or  I  should  not  have 
given  an  opinion.  I  don't  hang  my  happiness  on  potatoes 
and  it  annoyed  me  to  find  that  in  future  when  Hohen- 
rodas  were  cooked  for  the  family  a  different  kind  was 
dished  up  for  me.  I  had  hurt  the  Graf's  feelings  for- 
sooth, and  he  was  not  going  to  let  me  forget  it. 

His  wife  did  her  own  housekeeping  to  an  extent  that 
an  English  woman  in  her  position  does  not  do  and  was 
busy  most  of  the  day  in  regions  to  which  I  was  never 
invited.  It  was  only  as  time  went  on  that  I  discovered 
what  my  absence  implied  in  German  eyes,  and  how  the 
whole  household  pitied  poor  Graf  Wolfram  because  he 
had  brought  home  an  English  wife  who  would  let  his 
domestic  affairs  go  to  rack  and  ruin  when  his  excellent 
mother  was  put  under  the  earth. 


THE  DEVIL'S  CRADLE  93 

"But  our  households  don't  go  to  rack  and  ruin,"  I  said 
one  day  when  Herr  Putzer  tactfully  shed  a  light  on 
the  general  point  of  view.  "English  homes  are  extremely 
comfortable." 

Wolfram  was  the  only  person  present  who  had  been 
in  England  and  he  agreed  with  me.  His  parents  main- 
tained a  skeptical  silence  and  Herr  Putzer  began  one 
of  his  arguments  from  a  concrete  instance  in  which  he 
delighted. 

"Have  you  ever  bought  a  goose  ?"  he  said  to  me. 

"Every  Michaelmas,"  I  said.  "At  Christmas  we  buy 
turkeys." 

"What  you  do  at  Christmas  is  beside  the  question. 
What  happens  to  your  goose,  Frau  Grafin?" 

"He  is  stuffed  and  eaten   .   .   .    with  apple  sauce." 

"I  ask  you  for  the  preliminary  operations  .  .  .  not 
for  the  final  one.  What  for  instance  do  you  do  with 
the  feathers?" 

"I  suppose  you've  always  lived  in  the  country,"  I 
said.  "In  cities  you  don't  buy  birds  with  feathers.  They 
arrive  ready  for  the  cook." 

"Just  so.  That  is  what  I  maintain.  In  England  you 
buy  a  goose,  you  put  it  in  the  oven  and  you  eat  it.  I 
guessed  as  much.  And  you  call  yourselves  housekeepers." 

I  didn't  know  what  he  was  driving  at,  but  the  Grafin 
looked  pleased  and  the  others  were  smiling  and  by  de- 
grees I  was  told  of  all  the  things  Germans  do  with  geese 
that  we  Londoners  certainly  do  not  do.  I  had  heard 
of  giblet  pie,  but  I  had  not  yet  tasted  it.  At  Hohenroda 
a  little  later  in  the  year  we  should  have  giblet  stews 
slightly  flavored  with  garlic,  and  the  breasts  of  geese 
smoked  and  hung  for  winter  eating,  and  the  livers  served 
like  pate  de  fois  gras  but  whole,  and  without  truffles. 


94  THE  DEVIL'S  CRADLE 

I  had  to  own  that  in  the  matter  of  geese  I  was  a  child 
compared  with  the  Grafin,  but  I  assured  him  that  never- 
theless English  homes  were  comfortable,  clean  and  civi- 
lized. 

"How  can  a  home  be  civilized  when  a  nation  is  not  ?" 
he  asked.  "How  can  a  home  be  comfortable  when  the 
women  in  it  are  lazy  and  ignorant?" 

I  didn't  try  to  answer  him.  I  was  looking  at  Max 
who  was  sending  his  food  away  untasted  and  evidently 
had  one  of  his  bad  headaches. 

"What  are  you  going  to  do  this  afternoon?"  I  said 
to  the  boy,  for  it  was  a  half  holiday  at  the  Gymnasium 
and  he  had  come  back  to  dinner. 

"Algebra  and  Latin,"  he  answered.  His  voice  sounded 
tired  and  dead,  and  his  eyes  met  mine  with  a  painful 
effort.  I  could  see  that  it  hurt  him  to  look  up. 

"That  boy  is  ill,"  I  said  to  Wolfram  when  Herr  Putzer 
had  hurried  Max  off. 

"He  has  a  headache,"  said  the  Grafin  placidly.  "The 
you»g  frequently  have  headaches.  They  outgrow  them." 

"He  ought  to  be  in  bed,"  I  said. 

The  Graf  looked  at  me  as  if  he  would  gladly  have 
crushed  me  there  and  then  with  his  foot,  had  I  only 
been  of  a  convenient  size  and  material  for  crushing. 

"In  Germany  a  boy  must  learn  to  be  a  man,"  he  said. 
"If  he  suffers  in  the  process  it  cannot  be  helped.  Max 
is  soft  and  nervous.  That  must  be  overcome." 

"Can't  you  interfere?"  I  said  to  Wolfram  when  we 
were  by  ourselves.  "It  makes  me  miserable  to  think 
of  that  boy  shut  up  with  that  horrid  man  this  after- 
noon. I  should  like  to  bring  him  to  our  rooms  and 
put  him  to  bed." 

"Impossible!"  said  Wolfram.     "If  we  once  began  to 


THE  DEVIL'S  CRADLE  95 

interfere  with  Putzer  in  that  way  there  would  be  an 
end  to  all  discipline.  A  girl  may  be  petted  and  spoiled 
perhaps,  though  I  should  not  approve  of  it:  but  unless 
you  train  a  boy  in  the  way  he  should  go  you  ruin  him." 

"I  don't  want  to  pet  and  spoil  anyone,"  I  cried  in 
despair.  "It  is  a  case  for  a  doctor  .  .  .  ask  any 
doctor  if  that  boy  ought  to  be  at  work  this  afternoon." 

But  it  was  of  no  use.  I  was  trying  to  batter  my  head 
against  a  system  and  the  system  was  harder  than  my 
head.  The  Hohenrodas  always  had  been  brought  up 
in  this  way  and  in  spite  of  the  regrettable  Eschenau 
strain  Max  was  a  Graf  of  Hohenroda  and  must  go 
through  the  traditional  mill. 

"Or  succumb,"  I  said. 

"He  will  not  succumb,"  said  Wolfram,  and,  of  course, 
I  knew  that  he  was  displeased.  In  fact  he  reminded 
me  that  Max  had  been  in  his  grandparents'  care  for 
twelve  years,  and  that  I  should  only  give  umbrage  if 
I  tried  to  interfere  with  them.  I  said  I  would  risk  that 
if  I  could  make  things  pleasanter  for  Max  and  that  we 
ought  to  have  the  boy  more  under  our  eyes.  Wolfram 
could  not  agree  to  that,  however.  He  said  that  his  parents 
doted  on  Max  and  was  it  likely  that  they  would  allow 
him  to  be  ill  treated?  They  had  complete  confidence 
in  Herr  Putzer  whose  conception  of  his  duty  as  a 
teacher  was  exalted. 

What  could  I  do?  Here  were  four  people,  all  with 
more  experience  and  authority  than  I  had  and  all  mean- 
ing well  by  the  boy  according  to  their  lights.  No  doubt 
Herr  Putzer's  view  of  a  pupil  was  much  like  a  crammer's 
view  of  poultry.  His  business  was  to  cram  and  not  to 
ask  whether  the  process  was  painful  or  pleasant.  I 
was  not  surprised  when  supper-time  came  to  find  that 


96  THE  DEVIL'S  CRADLE 

Max  did  not  appear,  but  had  gone  to  bed  because  he 
was  "a  little  suffering."  "Headache !"  said  Herr  Putzer. 
"Headache  is  nothing.  To-morrow  he  will  be  normal." 

"A  cut  finger  or  a  broken  leg  I  can  understand,"  said 
the  Graf.  "But  this  everlasting  Weh  und  Ach  I  do  not 
understand.  One  expects  a  woman  to  be  forever  wail- 
ing but  not  a  boy." 

"When  then  have  I  wailed?"  said  the  Grafin  indig- 
nantly. "Never  unless  there  was  an  excellent  reason 
for  wailing." 

"Most  women  wail,"  said  the  Graf  with  a  side  glance 
at  me,  and  I  made  up  my  mind  that  if  ever  I  felt  ill 
in  that  house  I  would  shut  myself  up  and  when  necessary 
wail  to  myself  or  Wilkins.  But  I  was  beginning  to 
wonder  how  long  Wilkins  would  bear  the  change  of 
conditions.  In  those  early  days  she  was  as  tiresome  as 
she  could  be  and  even  Wolfram  could  not  put  reason 
into  her.  She  had  never  lived  with  people  who  did 
not  have  bacon  for  breakfast  she  said,  and  until  she 
came  abroad  with  me  she  had  not  imagined  that  such 
people  existed.  Eggs  in  her  opinion  were  not  a  substi- 
tute for  porridge,  bacon,  toast  and  marmalade,  all 
of  which  she  was  used  to  every  morning  at  nine  o'clock 
after  her  early  tea  at  half -past  seven.  Mamsell  had 
brought  her  a  small  single  egg  this  morning,  and  Wil- 
kins had  said :  "Do  you  take  me  for  a  fool  ?"  and  Mam- 
sell  had  only  smiled  and  said:  "Freestick!"  What  that 
meant  Wilkins  could  not  say,  but  it  was  now  eleven 
o'clock  and  she  had  a  sinking  feeling  such  as  she  had 
never  expected  to  suffer  from  in  a  nobleman's  house. 
When  she  lived  with  the  Duchess  she  had  cocoa  at  eleven, 
and  when  she  lived  with  us  in  London  she  had  coffee 
and  cake. 


THE  DEVIL'S  CRADLE  97 

"I've  only  had  coffee  and  rolls  for  breakfast,"  I  told 
her.  "It's  the  Continental  system.  But  I'll  see  what  can 
be  done." 

So  I  had  to  speak  to  the  Grafin  and  explain  to  her 
that  Wilkins  was  used  to  tea  and  bread-and-butter  at 
half-past  seven,  porridge,  tea,  bacon  and  marmalade  at 
nine,  cocoa  and  cake  at  eleven,  and  a  solid  early  dinner 
at  one:  and  that  she  would  feel  faint  if  she  was  sup- 
plied with  less  than  this. 

"Then  let  her  feel  faint,"  said  the  Grafin.  "Such 
demands  I  will  not  satisfy." 

So  I  had  to  wrap  up  this  ultimatum  in  different 
language  and  deliver  it  to  Wilkins  as  well  as  I  could. 

"A  large  and  satisfying  meat  sandwich  at  eleven  you 
may  have,"  I  told  her,  "but  you  have  come  to  a  country 
that  gets  along  somehow  without  bacon  for  breakfast." 

"I  never  saw  so  many  pigs  about  anywhere,"  said 
Wilkins,  with  a  skepticism  she  did  not  attempt  to  con- 
ceal. "They  come  nearer  the  house,  too,  than  they  ought 
to  in  my  opinion.  What  happens  to  'em?" 

"I  suppose  that  eventually  they  are  killed." 

"Then  how  can  you  have  pigs  without  bacon?" 

I  could  not  tell  her.  I  felt  sure  that  every  bit  of  a 
pig  was  put  to  the  most  profitable  use,  but  I  did  not 
know  the  ins  and  outs  of  the  pig  industry  at  Hohenroda 
yet;  and  Wilkins  then  changed  the  subject  by  asking 
me  whether  she  was  to  have  the  same  outings  here  as 
she  had  been  used  to  in  London  and  if  so  where  was 
she  to  go  ? 

That  was  a  poser  and  I  could  not  solve  it  offhand. 
When  I  consented  to  bring  Wilkins  to  Germany  I  had 
never  given  a  thought  to  her  afternoons  and  evenings 
out  and  what  she  would  do  with  them. 


98  THE  DEVIL'S  CRADLE 

"There  are  lovely  walks,"  I  said. 

"Not  of  a  kind  I  should  care  to  take  by  myself.  I 
wouldn't  trust  those  forests.  Besides  my  corns  have 
been  troubling  me  lately." 

"What  do  you  like  when  you  go  out?"  I  asked. 

"Shops  and  people.  Something  to  see.  There's  noth- 
ing to  see  here  that  wouldn't  give  me  the  'ump.  I 
generally  useter  go  to  my  aunt  at  Kilburn.  You  come 
back  refreshed.  I  only  gave  up  the  Duchess  because 
she  was  so  much  in  the  country  and  even  there  you 
could  get  to  a  little  town  on  a  bike.  Why,  here,  what'll 
I  do  if  I  want  a  reel  of  cotton  or  a  packet  of  hairpins?" 

"Wolfram!"  I  said;  for  he  came  in  just  then.  "What 
is  Wilkins  to  do  if  she  wants  a  reel  of  cotton  or  a 
packet  of  hairpins?" 

"Go  without,"  he  said  at  first,  and  she  smiled  as  if 
life  was  a  joke  after  all  and  left  the  room.  Then  he 
told  me  that  I  could  have  the  car  when  I  wanted  it 
for  shopping  in  Reichenstadt,  and  that  if  I  took  Wilkins 
with  me  it  would  be  better  than  if  I  went  in  by  myself. 


XIX 

I  HAVE  not  said  a  word  yet  about  the  south  side  of 
the  castle,  the  side  you  could  not  see  on  arrival 
and  which  faced  the  river  and  the  valley.     The 
gardens  had  been  made  here,  but  they  were  not  attrac- 
tive.    Plenty  of  vegetables  were  grown  and  I  suppose, 
if  you  have  the  true  gardening  spirit,  you  can  take  a 
warm  interest  in  vegetables  and  be  roused  to  enthusiasm 
by  rows  of  peas  and  patches  of  cauliflowers.    I  was  too 
ignorant  to  know  how  skillful  the  head  gardener  was  in 


THE  DEVIL'S  CRADLE  99 

this  way,  but  I  wished  for  a  great  deal  that  was  not 
there.  The  whole  had  been  planned  by  one  of  those 
orderly  minds  that  like  a  pattern  as  regular  as  a  chess- 
board: but  luckily  nature  can  confound  the  most  house- 
maidish  gardener  ever  created  and  by  the  end  of  July  the 
blazing  summer  days  had  done  away  with  some  of  the  sym- 
metry aimed  at,  by  withering  what  should  have  flourished 
and  encouraging  what  should  have  been  kept  in  bounds. 
The  rambler  roses  sprawled  over  the  big  veranda  where 
our  meals  were  served  as  if  there  was  no  such  thing  in 
the  world  as  a  pruning  knife,  in  the  borders  the  lupins 
distressed  the  Grafin  by  running  to  seed,  mignonette 
began  to  sprawl,  escholtzias  sprawled,  and  the  heat  fin- 
ished some  of  the  gayest  annuals  before  anyone  expected 
them  to  finish.  I  believe  the  Gramn's  tidy  soul  never  got 
real  pleasure  out  of  the  garden  for  when  we  walked 
about  it  together  she  could  only  see  the  weeds  and  the 
little  things  that  run  underground  and  come  up  where 
no  one  wants  them  and  the  pushing  greedy  things 
shouldering  their  neighbors.  She  said  the  gardener  was 
so  much  absorbed  in  his  vegetables  that  the  flowers  were 
neglected  and  that  as  this  was  the  kind  of  gardener  she 
desired  she  could  not  complain.  But  as  he  had  two  men 
under  him  she  thought  he  might  keep  the  place  tidier. 
I  thought  so,  too,  but  I  did  not  know  enough  of  garden- 
ing to  give  an  opinion.  I  wished  there  were  more  trees 
and  shrubs  and  better-kept  lawns.  The  whole  effect  in 
my  eyes  was  regular  in  plan  but  unkempt  in  upkeep,  and 
I  much  preferred  the  forest.  I  used  to  go  long  walks 
there  with  the  Grafin's  brown  dachshund,  Fritz.  Wolfram 
was  away  a  great  deal  at  the  barracks  and  Max  I  hardly 
saw. 
Wilkins  had  settled  down  resignedly  to  a  world  where 


ioo  THE  DEVIL'S  CRADLE 

bacon  was  not,  and  looked  as  if  she  was  gaining  weight 
rather  than  losing  it.  She  even  admitted  that  she  usually 
had  a  sufficiency  at  her  meals.  My  trouble  was  that  the 
meals  put  more  before  me  than  anyone  but  a  cormorant 
could  require,  and  that  though  the  Hohenrodas  did  not 
get  offended  with  my  want  of  appetite  as  the  Gutheims 
had  done,  they  sometimes  seemed  to  think  I  was  a  wet 
blanket  at  a  feast :  if  it  is  at  feasts  that  wet  blankets  are 
supposed  to  be  uncomfortable.  However,  I  enjoyed  those 
summer  months  at  Hohenroda  and  I  especially  enjoyed 
having  all  our  meals  on  the  veranda  instead  of  indoors. 

I  had  not  forgotten  the  Gutheims  all  this  time  and 
though  I  never  wished  to  meet  Emma  again  I  had  kindly 
memories  of  Eugenie  and  expected  to  see  something  of 
her.  Wolfram  had  made  the  round  of  his  friends  with 
me  in  tow  so  I  knew  that  Eduard  von  Gosen  would 
appear  sooner  or  later  at  Hohenroda  with  Eugenie:  for 
in  Germany  new  comers  and  newly  married  couples  call 
on  the  people  with  whom  they  wish  to  visit.  You  can 
imagine  the  comments  Wilkins  made  when  she  heard  of 
this  topsy-turvy  custom  and  her  allusions  to  what  the 
Duchess  would  have  said  to  it.  I  rather  enjoyed  those 
expeditions  myself.  Wolfram  and  I  used  to  set  out  in 
state  in  his  car,  I  having  made  myself  as  smart  as  I 
knew  how  and  he  looking  as  he  always  did,  point-device 
and  personable.  Sometimes  we  just  paid  a  formal  call 
and^  came  away  again ;  sometimes  we  stayed  to  coffee ; 
sometimes  to  coffee  and  to  supper,  too.  I  got  impressions 
of  various  interiors  big  and  small,  but  there  was  as  much 
pride  of  caste  in  the  smallest  as  at  Hohenroda  itself  and 
no  one  that  Wolfram  knew  visited  with  the  Gutheims. 

However,  one  day  Wolfram  came  back  with  the  news 
that  if  it  suited  his  mother  Eduard  von  Gosen  would 


THE  DEVIL'S  CRADLE  101 

present  his  wife  to  her  on  the  following  Saturday;  and 
the  Grafin  did  not  look  overjoyed,  but  said  that  she  sup- 
posed it  must  be  and  that  as  they  had  such  a  long  way 
to  come  and  would  have  the  expense  of  a  conveyance 
to  come  in  they  would  naturally  stay  to  supper  and  she 
would  naturally  sacrifice  ducks  to  them.  Luckily  she 
had  ducks  asking  to  be  sacrificed,  so  greedy  and  so  fat 
they  were.  I  asked  Wolfram  whether  his  mother  would 
write  and  tell  Eugenie  about  the  ducks  and  their  being 
expected  to  stay  and  eat  them  or  whether  I  should  do 
so :  because  from  my  short  experience  of  German  nerves 
and  their  extreme  susceptibility  I  thought  that  if  the 
ducks  were  there  and  the  von  Gosens  were  not,  there 
would  be  trouble.  I  had  found  our  own  visits  most  un- 
certain in  this  way.  At  one  house  you  would  be  asked 
to  tea  or  coffee  and  given  tea  or  coffee  and  there  was 
an  end  of  it  while  at  another  house  you  left  wounded 
feelings  behind  you  if  you  did  not  stay  to  a  supper  to 
which  you  had  not  been  invited. 

Eugenie  had  been  married  some  weeks  before  me  and 
had  presumably  paid  most  of  her  wedding-calls  before 
she  came  to  Hohenroda.  We  were  within  calling  dis- 
tance for  we  were  only  seven  miles  from  Reichenstadt, 
but  the  road  was  hilly.  However,  Wolfram  said  that 
Eduard  meant  to  hire  a  carriage  and  make  a  day  of  it 
and  that  I  need  not  write  about  the  ducks  because  they 
would  be  taken  for  granted.  It  would  be  a  moonlight 
night  and  the  drive  home  would  be  highly  romantic  but 
chilly. 

I  wondered  what  version  of  my  rupture  with  her 
family  had  been  put  before  Eugenie  and  how  the  Gut- 
heims  had  received  the  news  of  my  marriage.  I  knew 
it  must  have  reached  them  directly  it  took  place  for 


102  THE  DEVIL'S  CRADLE 

everything  that  happened  at  Hohenroda  was  known  at 
Reichenstadt,  but  none  of  them  had  written  or  sent  me 
a  wedding-present.  We  were  all  on  the  veranda  on 
Saturday  afternoon  when  Eduard  and  his  Eugenie  ar- 
rived and  directly  Eugenie  had  been  presented  to  the 
family  she  turned  to  me  with  an  exaggerated  display 
of  friendship  and  affection,  called  me  her  beloved 
Karenchen  and  put  a  parcel  she  was  carrying  into  my 
hands.  I  found  it  contained  a  small  red  plush  table- 
cloth embroidered  with  gold  braid  and  unfortunately  I 
recognized  it  for  one  she  had  received  herself  from  an 
elderly  aunt  and  shuddered  at  because  it  did  not  reach  the 
high  standard  of  taste  set  up  by  Eduard  and  herself  in 
their  new  home.  But  she  explained  when  I  opened  it  that 
she  knew  the  Hohenrodas  were  old-fashioned  in  their 
ideas  and  that  probably  it  would  harmonize  with  their 
decorations.  I  said  she  was  very  kind  to  bring  it  and 
that  was  all  I  could  say.  She  looked  much  as  she  used  to 
do,  rather  florid,  rather  handsome,  and  very  well  pleased 
with  herself.  She  did  most  of  the  talking  and  the  more 
she  talked  the  more  monosyllabic  the  Hohenrodas  be- 
came, so  that  soon  she  was  carrying  on  a  monologue 
punctuated  by  invitations  from  the  Grafin  to  drink  more 
tea  and  eat  more  cakes.  When  we  had  finished  eating 
I  walked  her  round  the  garden  which  she  said  she  had 
never  seen  and  then  took  her  up  to  my  own  rooms.  I 
think  perhaps  she  perceived  when  she  saw  them  that  the 
red  plush  tablecloth  would  not  harmonize  with  anything 
there:  for  she  looked  round  her  with  a  sort  of  reluctant 
admiration  and  said: 

"You've  made  yourself  quite  at  home  here." 
"For  the  present  I  am  at  home  here,"  I  pointed  out. 
"English  cretonnes  ...  an  English  carpet  .   .   .  pic- 


THE  DEVIL'S  CRADLE  103 

tures,  flowers  .   .   .  silver  .   .   .  books  .   .   .  one  might 
be  in  Sloane  Gardens.    ..." 

I  laughed  at  that  and  beckoned  her  to  the  open  win- 
dows. 

"Come  and  look  at  this  view,"  I  said. 

But  she  was  not  interested  in  the  view. 

"Tell  me,  Karenchen,"  she  purred,  "how  do  the  Graf 
and  Grafin  take  it?" 

"Take  what?" 

"All  this,"  and  she  waved  her  hand  at  the  room.  "And 
the  marriage  of  their  son  with  a  foreigner  belonging  to 
the  middle  classes.  They,  who  are  so  proud,  so  aris- 
tocratic !" 

"The  Grafin  likes  the  carpet,"  I  said  after  a  pause 
during  which  I  decided  that  Eugenie  was  not  feeling 
as  amiable  inwardly  as  she  appeared  outwardly.  "I  am 
going  to  give  her  one  for  her  birthday." 

"Ah !"  said  Eugenie.  "Money  reconciles  people  to  most 
things.  Did  your  father  give  you  a  large  dowry  ?" 

"Pretty  well,"  I  said,  but  I  wouldn't  tell  her  how  much. 
She  looked  rather  discomfited  for  a  moment  and  then 
began  to  talk  again,  telling  me  what  her  family  had  said 
about  my  sudden  departure,  which  they  apparently  repre- 
sented as  an  impulsive  adventure  of  my  own,  following 
on  an  unimportant  seizure  of  nerves  upsetting  Emma. 

"My  mother  tells  me  that  Emma  was  very  excited  and 
crying  bitterly  and  that  you  took  offense  and  left  the 
house  in  spite  of  all  she  could  say." 

"That  is  one  way  of  putting  it." 
"My  father  always  speaks  of  you  in  the  most  friendly 
way.     Some  day  there  must  be  a  reconciliation.     Cer- 
tainly there  must  be  a  reconciliation.     It  will  be  quite 
easy.    You  will  all  meet  at  my  house  and  behave  as  if 


104  THE  DEVIL'S  CRADLE 

nothing  had  happened.  I  am  sure  that  I  have  tact  enough 
to  manage  a  little  difficulty  like  that.  But  now  tell  me, 
Karenchen  .  .  .  for  we  are  old  friends  .  .  .  are  you 
happy  with  your  husband  ?  as  happy  as  I  am  with  mine  ?" 

"I  am  perfectly  happy." 

"Are  there  no  drawbacks?" 

"What  do  you  mean?" 

I  should  have  said,  "What  the  devil  do  you  mean?"  if  I 
had  not  been  properly  brought  up.  I  felt  that  way. 

"I  am  perhaps  peculiarly  sensitive.  I  could  not  live 
in  my  father-in-law's  house,  one  in  which  my  mother- 
in-law  ruled." 

"Couldn't  you?" 

"Certainly  not.  Young  married  people  should  be  by 
themselves.  You  cannot  contribute  enough  to  your  hus- 
band's happiness  under  such  circumstances.  For  instance 
what  he  eats  is  neither  ordered  nor  prepared  by  you." 

"We  don't  mind  that." 

"It  is  not  everything  perhaps.  But  I  could  not  bear 
to  see  the  portrait  of  my  predecessor  hanging  in  his 
room  and  her  son  always  opposite  me  at  table.  Curious 
that  these  things  should  not  disturb  you." 

I  took  her  downstairs  again  as  soon  as  I  could  and 
I  was  not  sorry  when  the  ducks  had  been  eaten  and  the 
moment  of  departure  had  arrived.  I  think  the  Hohen- 
rodas  breathed  more  freely,  too,  when  their  guests  had 
gone;  and  the  Graf  who  hardly  ever  made  a  personal 
remark  said  to  Wolfram  as  they  smoked  together: 

"Von  Go'sen  has  made  an  ass  of  himself." 

"Gelt!"  said  Wolfram,  and  the  word  might  mean 
either  Money  or  Truly !  So  it  was  a  joke  and  his  mother 
smiled. 

"Such  a  Jewess !"  said  the  Graf. 


THE  DEVIL'S  CRADLE  105 

"She  talks  too  much,"  said  Wolfram.  "She  knows  too 
much !  A  type  that  fills  me  with  antipathy !" 

Poor  Eugenie !  For  I,  who  knew  her  well,  knew  that 
she  had  done  her  best  to  please  them. 

"She  wants  us  to  eat  with  them  one  day,"  I  said. 

"Then  we  must  make  it  plain  that  we  will  not  meet 
her  family." 

"But  she  wants  us  to  meet  her  family  and  be  recon- 
ciled." 

"That  is  out  of  question,"  said  Wolfram. 


XX 


WHEN  I  look  back  to  those  early  weeks  at  Hohen- 
roda  so  many  facets  of  my  life  there  present 
themselves  that  I  find  it  difficult  to  decide 
which  to  show  you  as  the  most  characteristic.  I  have 
not  told  you  how  much  I  was  alone  most  of  the  day 
while  Wolfram  was  away  at  the  barracks.  I  have  said 
very  little  about  the  people  Wolfram  took  me  to  see  and 
the  return  visits  they  paid  after  a  proper  time  had 
elapsed  nor  have  I  owned  yet  that  if  it  had  not  been 
for  Wolfram  I  should  have  felt  unwelcome  and  unhappy. 
He  was  my  friend  in  the  house:  he  and  poor  little  tor- 
mented Max  who  was  hardly  allowed  to  see  me;  and 
Wilkins  who  meant  well,  but  growled.  The  Grafin  was 
stolidly  kind,  but  I  think  she  did  not  like  me;  or  else 
she  liked  me,  but  so  much  disliked  the  English  that  she 
could  not  warm  to  one  of  my  race.  She  was  a  dull- 
witted  conscientious  woman,  hard  on  herself  in  some 
ways  and  hard  on  others.  She  had  no  sympathy  with 
frail  bodies  and  frail  nerves  and  dismissed  servants  who 


io6  THE  DEVIL'S  CRADLE 

could  not  do  the  work  exacted  of  them.  Wilkins  was 
up  in  arms  about  the  work  men  and  women  had  to  do 
in  that  house,  their  stinted  outings  and  their  wretched  pay. 
She  had  learned  enough  German  or  the  little  Mamsell 
had  learned  enough  English  for  them  to  commune  with 
each  other  on  such  matters  and  no  doubt  one  stumbling 
block  between  my  mother-in-law  and  me  was  her  dislike 
of  my  maid.  She  called  her  my  Fraulein  and  made  no 
bones  about  telling  me  that  she  was  greedy,  idle  and 
presumptuous.  In  fact  one  day  there  was  a  little  scene 
at  tea  that  made  me  feel  as  if  I  had  got  back  to  the 
Gutheims  and  their  storm  area.  We  were  all  sitting  on 
the  veranda  when  Mamsell,  looking  ready  to  drop  with 
fright,  came  out  to  us  and  whispered  to  my  mother-in- 
law  that  there  was  no  sugar.  The  Grafin  asked  for  what 
sugar  could  be  required  at  that  time  of  day. 

"For  the  English  Fraulein  .  .  .  for  her  tea,"  mur- 
mured Mamsell  and  later  on  she  explained  to  me  that 
what  Erlaucht  left  out  for  the  day  was  so  knapp  that 
it  frequently  would  not  go  round. 

When  Wilkins  had  the  audacity  to  ask  for  sugar  for 
her  tea  the  Grafin  took  up  a  plate,  put  two  lumps  on  it  and 
with  black  displeasure  handed  them  to  Mamsell.  It  was 
of  course  uncomfortable  for  me  and  when  I  went  up- 
stairs I  told  Wilkins  that  we  would  go  into  Reichenstadt 
and  buy  some  sugar  for  her  private  consumption  because 
in  Germany  it  was  not  considered  good  manners  to  ask 
for  anything  and  that  she  must  not  offend  in  this  way 
again.  But  Wilkins  said  that  she  hoped  she  knew  what 
was  due  to  her  and  that  she  had  never  expected  to  live 
with  gentry  who  kept  the  food  under  lock  and  key  to 
the  extent  prevailing  in  this  house.  Besides  they  were 
having  a  deal  too  much  boiled  beef  and  horse-radish 


THE  DEVIL'S  CRADLE  107 

sauce  for  her  taste  and  no  one  downstairs  ever  made  a 
decent  cup  of  tea  and  why  couldn't  the  Germans  eat  their 
loaves  white  as  other  Christians  did,  instead  of  that  horrid 
gray  color,  tasting  sour  and  not  a  shape  anyone  could 
cut  with  any  elegance.  Such  sandwiches  as  went  upstairs 
to  tea  she  had  never  seen  before  and  hoped  never  to 
see  again.  Great  clumsy  things  more  fit  for  plough- 
boys  than  for  ladies  and  gentlemen  1  Or  else  uncovered 
morsels  with  blobs  of  anchovy  or  caviare  on  them  .  .  . 
not  sandwiches  at  all. 

I  wished  I  had  trained  Wilkins  not  to  talk  while  she 
dressed  me  or  brushed  my  hair:  but  unfortunately  she 
had  done  the  training  when  I  was  a  little  girl  and  she 
never  realized  as  fully  as  she  should  have  done  that  I 
was  a  little  girl  no  longer.  However,  I  arranged  to  have 
the  use  of  Wolfram's  car  next  day  and  to  take  Wilkins 
to  Reichenstadt  with  me.  The  Grafin  did  not  like  cars 
and  still  drove  about  in  an  old-fashioned  carriage  with 
a  bearded  old  coachman  whose  livery  did  not  fit  him, 
and  she  very  rarely  got  as  far  as  Reichenstadt.  When 
I  think  of  the  Hohenroda  household  as  I  first  knew  it 
I  see  everybody  flourishing,  well  fed,  on  the  whole  well 
treated,  making  grievances  for  themselves  if  so  inclined 
and  jogging  along  together  with  about  the  amount  of 
friction  you  would  usually  find  in  a  household  so  big 
and  composite.  But  in  the  heart  of  that  little  world  I 
see  the  tragic  figure  of  Max  being  ground  into  shape  by 
a  system  too  rigid  for  him  and  suffering  as  no  one  else 
near  him  suffered.  He  was  a  son  of  the  house;  on 
his  shoulders  the  mantle  of  tradition  and  dignity  must 
fall  if  he  survived  the  treatment  that  was  to  make  him 
worthy  of  it:  but  no  one  secerned  to  see  that  the  treat- 
ment was  crushing  him.  His  grandparents  and  Wolfram 


io8  THE  DEVIL'S  CRADLE 

had  found  a  formula  that  explained  his  unsatisfactory 
traits  to  their  satisfaction.  When  he  had  headaches 
they  were  Eschenau  headaches;  when  he  was  apathetic 
and  slow  of  understanding  he  resembled  some  uncle  or 
aunt  or  cousin  on  his  mother's  side.  I  told  Wolfram 
that  as  they  were  so  persuaded  that  he  was  an  Eschenau 
they  might  as  well  give  up  the  attempt  to  make  him  a 
Hohenroda:  but  Wolfram  could  not  accept  my  point  of 
view.  He  would  be  a  Hohenroda  if  he  lived,  he  said. 

When  I  talk  of  dinner  at  Hohenroda,  I  mean  the 
satisfying  meal  served  at  one  o'clock.  In  the  evening 
we  had  supper  which  was  also  satisfying  but  differently 
constructed.  At  dinner,  on  the  day  when  I  was  going 
to  Reichenstadt  Herr  Putzer  was  not  present  and  I  was 
told  that  he  was  eating  with  his  pastor  and  his  wife 
because  they  had  just  killed  a  pig  and  had  invited  him — 
Herr  Putzer,  not  the  pig. 

"I'll  take  you  to  school,"  I  said  to  Max ;  for  he  usually 
went  to  and  fro  in  a  small  two-seater  kept  for  his  use. 

"I'm  not  going  back  to  school  to-day,"  he  told  me. 

"Come  with  me  for  the  afternoon  then,"  I  said ;  but  he 
shook  his  head  wearily  and  said  that  Herr  Putzer  had 
left  directions  about  the  work  that  was  to  be  done  in  his 
absence. 

I  said  no  more  just  then,  but  at  five  o'clock  Max, 
Wilkins  and  I  were  seated  at  a  little  table  at  the 
Krokodil,  the  best  restaurant  in  Reichenstadt,  and  were 
having  chocolate,  cakes  and  ices.  We  were  rather  ex- 
hausted because  we  had  explored  every  likely  shop  in 
the  Kaiserstrasse  and  had  failed  to  find  the  kind  of 
hairpin  or  the  make  of  cotton  that  Wilkins  considered 
necessary  to  her  happiness.  There  had  been  interludes 
in  shops  where  I  had  bought  Max  some  games  he  did 


THE  DEVIL'S  CRADLE  109 

not  know  and  some  story  books  he  had  not  read.  But 
neither  of  us  wanted  anything  as  ardently  and  ob- 
stinately as  Wilkins  wanted  the  hairpins  and  the  cotton 
she  could  not  get.  You  cannot  imagine  how  our  pilgrim- 
age amused  Max  and  how  his  eyes  twinkled  as  he  ex- 
plained to  the  shopkeepers  what  we  wanted  and  to  us 
that  we  could  not  have  it  and  why.  I  had  persuaded 
him  to  come  by  telling  him  that  I  wanted  an  interpreter 
and  that  I  would  take  the  blame  if  anyone  was  angry. 
As  Max  was  my  stepson  I  could  not  see  why  I  should 
not  take  him  out  for  an  afternoon  for  once.  I  knew  it 
would  do  him  good  to  get  away  from  Herr  Putzer  and 
to  have  the  giggles  when  Wilkins  and  I  talked  German. 
I  knew  very  little  about  Reichenstadt  and  had  to  ask 
Max  where  to  go  for  our  chocolate.  He  did  not  know 
much  either,  but  said  that  his  father  had  once  taken  him 
to  the  Krokodil  and  that  it  had  been  famous.  We  found 
a  large  crowded  restaurant  and  as  we  were  looking  for 
a  table  Eugenie  von  Gosen  hailed  me  and  made  room 
for  us  at  hers.  She  was  there  with  her  mother  and 
Emma  and  a  whole  tribe  of  friends  and  relations. 
There  must  have  been  at  least  a  dozen  of  them  and  they 
netted  us  in  the  most  determined  and  amiable  way. 
Frau  Gutheim  and  Emma  congratulated  me  on  my  mar- 
riage and  said  they  were  rejoiced  to  see  me  and  hoped 
that  I  should  soon  pay  them  a  visit.  They  were  here,  they 
said,  to  celebrate  Emma's  nineteenth  birthday  and  they 
expected  that  Herr  Gutheim  and  Oscar  Strauss  would 
shortly  joined  them.  I  saw  that  Wilkins  puzzled  them, 
but  she  sat  between  Max  and  me  and  behaved  with  the 
chilly  decorum  she  put  on  as  armor  when  necessary.  I 
could  see  her  taking  stock  of  the  ladies'  dresses  which 
were  all  very  fashionable  and  expensive.  I  dare  say 


I  io  THE  DEVIL'S  CRADLE 

she  took  stock  of  their  manners,  too.  These  were  per- 
haps a  little  noisy  and  drew  the  glances  of  quieter  folk. 
But  everyone  was  friendly  and  some  were  amusing  and 
alive.  Just  as  we  had  settled  down  to  our  chocolate, 
however,  Wolfram  came  in  with  his  Colonel  and  another 
officer,  and  as  he  walked  up  the  room  he  saw  me  sitting 
with  a  whole  clan  of  Gutheims  and  with  me  Max,  who 
ought  to  have  been  at  home  trying  to  make  a  Hohenroda 
out  of  an  Eschenau.  It  was  an  awkward  and  distressful 
moment. 


XXI 

IF  I  could  have  pretended  not  to  see  Wolfram  I 
would  have  done  so,  but  unfortunately  that  was  im- 
possible. I  confess  that  I  was  taken  aback  because 
directly  he  came  in  I  knew  better  than  I  had  done  before 
that  I  ought  not  to  have  lured  Max  from  his  dictionaries 
or  be  sitting  in  a  public  place  with  him  surrounded  by 
Jews.  In  England  you  could  never  feel  as  I  did  that 
afternoon  in  Reichenstadt  and  that  shows  you  how  im- 
possible it  is  to  live  in  a  place  and  not  breathe  its 
atmosphere.  You  may  not  like  what  you  breathe,  but 
you  are  influenced.  However,  Wolfram  solved  the  ques- 
tion by  following  his  friends  to  another  part  of  the  room 
and  sitting  down  there. 

"But  he  saw  you,  Karenchen,"  said  the  tactful  Eugenie. 
"He  certainly  saw  you.  Why  then  does  he  walk  away  ?" 

It  was  impossible  to  tell  Eugenie  why  he  walked  away, 
but  I  thought  she  might  have  guessed.  She  knew  all 
about  the  impassable  gulf  fixed  between  Hohenrodas  and 
Gutheims.  My  offense  smelt  to  heaven.  All  the  way 


THE  DEVIL'S  CRADLE  in 

home  I  was  reconstructing  the  scene  of  my  crime  and 
I  could  not  omit  the  flamboyant  and  ingratiating  figure 
of  Aunt  Rosalie  bending  over  Max  with  a  plate  of  cream 
cakes  and  saying  in  her  kindest  but  oiliest  voice  that  he 
was  a  reizender  Junge  and  she  was  sure  he  could  eat 
yet  another,  just  that  little  one.  Max  had  not  taken  the 
cake,  but  he  had  looked  up  at  his  father  with  those 
terrified  eyes  that  I  wished  I  need  never  see  in  the  boy's 
face  again:  and  the  father  was  my  Wolfram  whose 
armor  of  blood  and  iron  I  did  not  fear,  but  who  was 
assuredly  not  a  man  anyone  would  flout.  The  escapade 
that  had  begun  light-heartedly  was  turning  to  earnest  and 
I  wondered  rather  anxiously  what  our  reception  would 
be  when  we  got  home.  I  knew  Herr  Putzer  would  be 
fuming,  but  I  thought  that  I  could  bear  that. 

When  I'm  in  a  hole  I  like  to  fix  my  mind  on  one  point 
and  attend  to  it  if  I  can.  I  had  to  see  that  Max  was 
not  made  to  suffer  for  my  sins  and  with  this  idea  in 
my  mind  I  went  with  him  to  the  schoolroom  directly 
we  arrived.  Herr  Putzer  rose  and  bowed  before  he  let 
loose  the  vials  of  his  wrath  which  I  saw  were  full  to 
overflowing.  In  fact  they  impeded  his  speech  when  I 
bade  him  good-evening.  He  clicked  his  teeth,  but  did  not 
reply.  I  think  he  must  have  had  false  teeth  that  did  not 
fit  very  well,  for  you  always  heard  them  click  when  he 
was  excited  or  annoyed.  The  crimes  of  England  for 
instance  would  set  them  off  at  any  moment.  But  when 
you  read  of  people  gnashing  their  teeth  you  think  they 
ought  to  be  getting  the  worst  of  it  and  Herr  Putzer 
was  not  getting  the  worst  of  it.  On  the  contrary.  He 
had  certain  trump  cards  in  his  hand  and  meant  to  play 
them. 

"Good-evening,  Herr  Putzer,"  I  said  as  airily  as  I 


112  THE  DEVIL'S  CRADLE 

could.  "I  took  Max  out  with  me  for  the  afternoon  and 
I  have  brought  him  back  safe  and  sound:  but  he  is  too 
tired  to  do  any  more  work  to-day." 

Looking  back,  I  wonder  at  my  own  audacity.  I,  a 
mere  female  and  a  foreigner,  to  suggest  that  the  boy's 
work  for  next  day's  school  could  be  set  aside  because 
he  was  tired.  But  Max  had  explained  to  me  that  he 
could  prepare  what  was  actually  necessary  for  school  by 
getting  up  an  hour  earlier  in  the  morning  and  that  what 
took  it  out  of  him  most  was  as  often  as  not  extra  work 
imposed  by  the  tutor. 

"The  boy  will  do  the  work  he  was  commanded  to 
do,"  cried  Herr  Putzer.  "Instantly  will  he  begin  to 
work  .  .  .  and  he  will  be  punished,  severely  punished." 

"Punished !"  I  said,  pretending  to  be  surprised.  "Why 
should  he  be  punished?  What  has  he  done  that  is 
wrong?" 

The  man's  eyes  semed  to  start  from  his  head  and  he 
hammered  on  the  table  with  his  clenched  fist  to  empha- 
size what  he  had  to  say. 

"It  is  not  allowed,"  he  screamed,  "the  sooner  the 
Frau  Grafin  understands  it  the  better.  It  is  not  allowed 
to  interfere  between  me  and  my  pupil  ...  to  teach 
him  habits  of  idleness  and  dissipation  ...  to  take  him 
away  without  permission  ...  on  the  Bummel.  I  say 
it.  Such  lightness  cannot  be  endured.  We  are  Germans, 
thanks  be  to  heaven." 

"That's  all  right,"  I  said  in  English.  "I  don't  mind 
your  getting  into  a  tantrum  with  me;  but  I'm  not  going 
to  have  Max  punished  for  doing  as  I  told  him.  You  seem 
to  forget  that  I  am  his  stepmother." 

I  dare  say  you  will  be  surprised  when  I  tell  you  that 
Herr  Putzer  answered  by  snapping  his  fingers  at  me 


THE  DEVIL'S  CRADLE  113 

and  puffing  away  an  imaginary  object  with  his  lips  as 
if  it  were  thistledown:  but  if  you  are  surprised  or  in- 
credulous it  only  shows  that  you  have  never  encountered 
a  German  of  Herr  Putzer's  class  and  temperament  in 
a  towering  passion.  I  turned  to  Max  and  saw  that  his 
poor  haggard  face  was  pale  and  drawn  with  dread  and 
his  eyes  wide  with  amazement  at  what  must  have  seemed 
to  him  my  daring. 

"Come  with  me,"  I  sail  to  the  boy,  taking  him  by 
the  arm.  "I  will  ask  your  father  to  explain  to  Herr 
Putzer  that  if  I  choose  to  take  you  out  for  a  few  hours 
I  can  do  so." 

But  the  tutor  flew  towards  us  and  seized  his  pupil's 
other  arm. 

"Nicht  mucksen,"  he  screamed  in  his  cracked  treble. 
"I  forbid  you  to  go.  A  German  am  I  and  faithful  to 
my  duty.  The  gracious  one  must  try  her  wiles  else- 
where .  .  .  not  on  me." 

Wiles  indeed!  and  the  silly  little  man  making  such  a 
spectacle  of  himself  that  I  felt  ashamed,  inasmuch  as 
he  was  an  adult  and  was  literally  foaming  at  the  mouth 
in  the  presence  of  a  child.  I  had  read  of  people  foam- 
ing at  the  mouth,  but  I  had  never  seen  anyone  so  af- 
flicted before  and  I  hope  I  never  may  again. 

"We  can't  tear  the  boy  in  two,  can  we?"  I  said. 

"The  boy  stays  here." 

"Not  at  all.  He  comes  with  me.  You  forget  yourself, 
Herr  Putzer." 

My  blood  was  up  and  Max  did  go  with  me,  but  not 
without  a  scuffle.  I  was  a  head  and  shoulders  taller  than 
the  tutor  and  more  muscular  than  you  would  think  to 
look  at  me  and  I  took  him  by  surprise.  I  ...  well, 
I  just  pushed  him  and  he  fell  down.  I  did  not  mean 


114  THE  DEVIL'S  CRADLE 

him  to  fall,  but  naturally  I  seized  the  moment  when  he 
chose  to  do  so  and  got  Max  away  to  my  own  quarters. 
The  whole  incident  was  deplorable  and  my  behavior 
most  unladylike.  I  see  it  now. 

"There  will  be  the  devil  to  pay,"  I  said  when  I  had 
taken  breath  and  I  told  Wilkins  what  had  taken  place. 
Her  view  was  that  it  served  Herr  Putzer  right,  but  that 
I  was  old  enough  to  know  better.  Max  fidgeted  about 
the  room  and  hoped  Herr  Putzer  was  not  dead.  At 
least  he  said  so  and  suggested  that  he  ought  to  go  and 
see.  Into  the  gloom  of  our  afterthoughts  came  Wolfram 
in  battle  trim.  I  saw  that  by  his  eye.  Wilkins  disap- 
peared. 

"Why  is  Max  here?"  he  asked. 

"I  brought  him  here,"  I  said. 

"Away!"  he  said  to  Max,  speaking  to  him  just  as 
he  had  done  that  day  in  the  train. 

When  he  had  gone  I  looked  at  Wolfram  to  find  out 
how  angry  he  was  and  then  I  looked  at  the  tips  of  my 
toes  because  for  the  moment  my  courage  had  descended 
there ;  and  I  sighed. 

"I  know,"  I  said,  "I've  kidnaped  Max  and  I've  broken 
bread  with  a  whole  tableful  of  Jews  ...  at  least  it 
was  cream  cakes  and  they  wouldn't  even  let  us  pay  for 
them  .  .  .  and  when  I  got  back  I  knocked  Herr  Putzer 
down." 

"What!"  cried  Wolfram,  quite  bowled  over  by  the 
heinousness  of  my  conduct. 

I  sighed  again.     It  really  was  a  trying  moment. 

"I  hardly  touched  him,"  I  said,  thinking  it  was  time 
to  present  my  case.  "He  went  down  .  .  .  like  a  nine- 
pin." 

"In  Germany  one  does  not  treat  learned  men  who  con- 


THE  DEVIL'S  CRADLE  115 

sent  to  educate  our  sons  .  .  .  as  if  they  were  ninepins," 
said  Wolfram  sternly, 

"I  never  did  it  before." 

"It  should  not  have  happened  at  all." 

"It  was  not  my  program,  Wolfram,  any  more  than 
the  cream  cakes  and  the  Jews.  These  things  came  on 
me  unawares.  My  idea  was  to  take  Wilkins  to  Reichen- 
stadt  and  buy  her  sugar  and  hairpins.  Even  Max  was 
an  afterthought." 

"I  have  told  you  from  the  beginning  that  Max  is  not 
your  affair.  Where  he  is  concerned  you  have  nothing 
to  say." 

"I  don't  accept  that  position." 

"But,  Karen,  be  reasonable,"  said  Wolfram,  sitting 
down  beside  me.  "Max  is  not  your  child.  My  parents 
have  always  had  the  care  of  him.  They  will  not  brook 
your  interference  and  they  will  support  Putzer." 

"Then  heaven  help  Max,"  I  said  and  got  no  further. 
For  whatever  I  said  Wolfram  would  return  to  his  old 
argument  about  his  parents'  prior  rights  over  the  boy  and 
Herr  Putzer's  methods  as  a  teacher  and  my  ignorance 
of  what  German  children  had  to  endure  so  that  they 
should  grow  up  German  and  not  anything  inferior:  and 
when  we  had  come  to  a  standstill  over  these  ideas  he 
made  a  fresh  move  with  the  undeniable  fact  that  I  had 
knocked  Herr  Putzer  down  and  that  somehow  or  other 
amends  must  be  made  to  him. 


Ii6  THE  DEVIL'S  CRADLE 


XXII 

ATER  discussing  what  it  was  best  to  do  Wolfram 
and  I  decided  that  we  would  pay  a  visit  to  Herr 
Putzer,  inquire  after  his  injuries,  if  any,  and 
possibly  apply  balm.    At  least  that  was  Wolfram's  idea. 
I  thought  that  Herr  Putzer  would  be  more  offended  than 
ever  if  we  suggested  that  a  stain  on  his  honor  could  be 
wiped  out  with  money  and  Wolfram  said  I  must  leave 
it  to  him  and  that  he  had  not  thought  of  money  but 
perhaps  of  a  gold  watch  and  chain. 

"To  commemorate  the  occasion,"  I  said,  "and  you'll 
inscribe  my  name  and  his  in  the  lid,  with  the  date." 

Wolfram  said  that  something  must  be  done  to  appease 
him  and  that  he  hoped  I  was  not  going  to  make  a  prac- 
tice of  treating  people  like  ninepins  because  if  I  did  I 
should  land  him  sooner  or  later  in  a  duel.  I  felt  sure 
that  he  did  not  really  like  Herr  Putzer  much  because 
he  spoke  of  him  once  or  twice  as  der  Kerl  which  is 
equivalent  to  our  talking  of  a  man  as  the  fellow.  He 
wanted  to  go  and  speak  to  him  at  once  so  as  to  get  it 
over,  but  I  still  wore  the  blouse  and  skirt  I  had  on  when 
the  regrettable  incident  took  place.  I  thought  they  would 
remind  him  of  it.  Besides  the  sleeve  of  my  blouse  had 
got  torn  where  he  clawed  it  and  I  snatched  it  away.  I 
put  on  a  frock  I  had  not  worn  before  and  which  I  knew 
would  please  Wolfram  because  I  looked  like  a  dove  in 
it.  It  was  dove  color  and  filmy  and  I  wore  Dad's  row 
of  pearls  with  it,  the  row  he  had  given  me  on  my  wed- 
ding day. 

"But  unless  you  behave  like  a  dove  it  is  useless  to 


THE  DEVIL'S  CRADLE  117 

look  like  one,"  said  Wolfram  when  I  pointed  out  my 
likeness  to  the  gentle  bird  on  the  way  to  the  schoolroom. 

I  made  him  a  curtsey  and  blew  him  a  kiss  to  show 
him  I  knew  how  doves  conducted  themselves  and  just 
as  I  did  so  the  Graf  came  upon  us  from  another  cor- 
ridor. I  saw  by  his  scowl  that  he  was  in  a  rage  and 
I  wondered  instantly  whether  his  rage  was  with  me  and 
whether  he  knew  of  all  the  dreadful  things  I  had  done 
or  only  that  I  had  taken  Max  to  Reichenstadt  without 
permission.  I  asked  Wolfram  in  an  undertone  if  he 
had  seen  his  father  since  his  return  and  he  shook  his 
head  so  I  knew  that  at  any  rate  the  Graf  had  not  heard 
about  the  Jews  and  the  cream  cakes. 

"Where  are  you  going?"  he  said  to  Wolfram.  He 
took  no  notice  of  me  unless  you  can  call  an  extra  special 
scowl  notice. 

"We  are  going  to  speak  to  Putzer,"  said  Wolfram. 

"So  am  I,"  said  the  Graf.  "I  am  going  to  apologize 
to  him." 

"Have  you  annoyed  him,  too?"  I  cried  and  got  a  quite 
new  energetic  scowl  in  reply. 

"I  am  going  to  tell  him  it  will  not  happen  again,"  he 
said,  glaring  at  me  so  that  I  understood  what  he  meant. 
At  least  I  thought  I  did.  "Otherwise  ..." 

"I  don't  suppose  it  ever  will  happen  again,"  I  said  as 
soothingly  as  I  could.  "I've  never  done  such  a  thing 
before." 

"You  have  attempted  it." 

"Never!  I've  never  touched  Herr  Putzer  before  ex- 
cept when  he  shook  hands  and  wished  my  dinner  might 
agree  with  me  or  said  good-night  and  then  you've  all 
been  present." 

"What  is  she  chattering  about?"  said  my  father-in- 


ii8  THE  DEVIL'S  CRADLE 

law  rudely  and  then  he  opened  the  schoolroom  door  and 
we  went  in. 

The  air  of  that  room  was  always  stale  and  close  for 
Herr  Putzer  would  not  have  any  windows  open.  Max 
sat  at  a  table  with  books  in  front  of  him  and  the  look 
of  haggard  weariness  on  his  face  that  always  made  me 
long  to  put  my  arms  round  him  and  carry  him  away. 
Herr  Putzer  got  up  when  we  went  in  and  received  the 
two  Hohenrodas  with  the  obsequious  politeness  both 
parties  seemed  to  take  for  granted.  He  pretended  to 
ignore  me  and  I  could  hardly  blame  him  for  that  when 
I  f  aw  a  large  bruise  near  his  right  eye.  The  Graf  must 
have  seen  it,  too,  and  certainly  Wolfram  did  for  he  looked 
at  me  ruefully. 

"What  have  you  to  say  for  yourself?"  the  Graf 
asked  Max  harshly.  "How  dare  you  absent  yourself 
from  the  house  and  from  your  work  without  permission  ?" 

I  thought  this  was  a  singularly  impolite  way  of  stating 
the  case  in  my  presence. 

"He  had  my  permission,"  I  said.  "No  one  is  to  blame 
for  what  happened  this  afternoon  except  me." 

"Since  when  has  my  grandson  been  under  your 
orders?"  Said  the  Graf  with  a  withering  glance. 

"Since  I  married  his  father,"  I  said. 

"Karen!"  said  Wolfram  in  a  low  warning  voice. 

"So  it  is,"  said  Herr  Putzer,  stretching  out  his  hand 
in  my  direction  much  as  a  preacher  does  when  he  wishes 
to  emphasize  a  point  in  a  sermon.  "So  it  is.  Since  the 
gracious  one  arrived  there  is  an  end  to  orders  and 
authority.  But  it  may  not  be." 

"Assuredly  it  may  not  be,"  said  the  Graf. 

"In  my  own  kingdom  I  will  reign:  otherwise  I  will 
no  longer  ..." 


THE  DEVIL'S  CRADLE  H9 

"My  good  Putzer,"  began  the  Graf  soothingly. 

"I  will  not  be  made  an  object  of  laughter  ...  of 
frivolous  thoughtless  laughter." 

"But  who  laughs?" 

"And  attacked  .  .  .  bodily  attacked  .  .  .  taken  un- 
awares .  .  .  before  I  could  defend  myself." 

The  Graf  looked  puzzled,  as  well  he  might.  Wolfram 
took  up  the  word  for  him. 

"It  was  an  accident,"  he  said  in  a  tone  of  stiff  apology. 
''We  have  come  to  explain  to  you  that  it  was  an  acci- 
dent." 

"I  have  been  insulted." 

"You  should  have  left  Max  alone,"  I  said,  for  my 
apologetic  feelings  were  evaporating  and  I  was  getting 
annoyed  again.  "If  you  had  not  behaved  badly,  too,  it 
would  never  have  happened.  I  wonder  you  care  to  dwell 
on  it.  I  don't." 

"But  what  has  happened  ?"  said  the  Graf. 

"The  gracious  one  pushed  me  violently  and  I  fell 
down,"  said  Herr  Putzer,  pointing  a  hand  trembling  with 
rage  in  my  direction.  "No  doubt  my  falling  was  acci- 
dental. Her  strength  cannot  be  greater  than  mine.  But 
to  push  is  not  allowed.  I  have  been  insulted." 

"Himmelkreuzdonnerwettersacra'ment,"  said  the  Graf: 
or  something  like  it. 

"You  certainly  fell  down  very  easily,"  I  said.  "'You 
must  have  slipped.  I  hope  you  didn't  hurt  yourself." 

"Of  course  I  hurt  myself.  How  can  one  fall  on  a 
hard  floor  and  not  hurt  oneself?  When  one  is  no  longer 
a  child  and  therefore  not  accustomed  to  falling." 

"I  am  sorry,"  I  said  and  then  nearly  choked  with  my 
effort  not  to  laugh ;  for  the  absurd  little  man  first  pointed 
to  his  bruise  and  then  showed  us  where  he  had  been 


120  THE  DEVIL'S  CRADLE 

hurt  by  rubbing  himself:  and  if  Wilkins  had  been  there 
she  would  have  called  him  indelicate. 

"It  is  also  the  shock  to  the  nerves,"  he  grumbled,  "and 
the  blow  to  one's  dignity." 

Then  the  Graf  startled  us  all  by  hammering  on  the 
table  with  his  fist  and  shouting  that  he  was  here  to  give 
Max  the  thrashing  he  deserved  and  would  not  have  his 
time  wasted  any  longer. 

"Wolfram!"  I  cried,  "don't  let  the  boy  be  thrashed. 
Look  at  him.  He  isn't  fit  for  it.  Whatever  has  hap- 
pened is  my  fault." 

"Another  time  before  you  lead  the  boy  into  mischief 
you  will  perhaps  remember  that  he  will  suffer  for  it," 
said  my  father-in-law;  and  Herr  Putzer  nodded  malev- 
olently. 

"Don't  cry,  Karen,"  said  Wolfram  when  he  got  me 
back  to  my  room.  "My  father  won't  hurt  him  much, 
but  discipline  must  be." 

"You  are  all  cruel,"  I  sobbed,  "cruel  and  stupid;  and 
I  can't  make  you  see  it." 

"You  certainly  will  not  make  us  see  it.  Max  is  being 
brought  up  as  I  was  brought  up:  and  I  have  survived." 

"You  are  of  a  different  grain,  a  different  constitution. 
He  cannot  stand  what  you  did." 

"A  boy  must  know  how  to  resist  temptation  when  it 
conflicts  with  his  duty.  Max  should  not  have  gone  with 
you." 

"I'm  glad  he  came.  I'm  glad  he  had  a  happy  after- 
noon anyhow,  and  five  cream  cakes  and  two  cups  of 
chocolate.  Poor  little  chap!  I  wish  I  could  pick  him 
up  and  carry  him  to  England  and  leave  him  there." 

"What  nonsense  you  talk,  Karen.  In  English  schools 
the  big  boys  thrash  the  little  ones  when  they  deserve  it. 


THE  DEVIL'S  CRADLE  121 

That  is  well  known.  You  evidently  know  nothing  about 
the  bringing  up  of  boys.  You  have  not  had  brothers. 
If  heaven  blesses  us  with  sons  ..." 

I  believe  I  startled  Wolfram  by  the  horror  in  my  eyes 
as  I  looked  at  him:  for  he  had  startled  me. 

"Heaven  forbid  that  any  child  of  mine  should  ever 
suffer  as  Max  suffers,"  I  said  with  passion.  "I  would 
rather  bear  no  child." 


XXIII 

ATER  this  I  kept  my  eye  on  Max  as  well  as  I 
could,  but  I  was  unable  to  help  him  except  by 
being  of  the  same  opinion  still  and  presenting 
that  opinion  to  Wolfram  as  I  saw  a  chance.  At  any 
rate  he  no  longer  went  about  his  own  concerns  blind  to 
those  of  his  son  and  I  sometimes  saw  him  look  at  Max 
uneasily,  wondering,  I  suppose,  why  the  system  seemed 
to  be  grinding  the  life  out  of  his  boy  while  it  only  turned 
other  people's  boys  into  men  of  blood  and  iron  neces- 
sary to  the  leading  world-power.  All  the  more  necessary 
because  the  leading  or,  perhaps  one  might  say,  driving 
world-power  was  not  recognized  yet  as  it  should  be 
by  other  powers  that  wanted  to  exist  on  an  equality 
instead  of  in  their  proper  place,  under  the  German  heel. 
It  was  only  gradually,  of  course,  that  the  prevalent 
German  view  became  clear  to  me  as  I  got  to  know  more 
German  and  listened  to  everyone  saying  the  same  thing 
in  sl'ghtly  varying  words.  When  I  asked  them  what 
they  thought  England  would  be  doing  while  they  were 
establishing  themselves  in  the  topmost  place  by  the  simple 
but  of  course  painful  process  of  kicking  everyone  else 


122  THE  DEVIL'S  CRADLE 

into  a  lower  one,  they  either  looked  surprised  at  my 
joining  in  a  discussion  on  politics  and  turned  what  I 
said  into  a  laugh  or  some  silly  personal  compliment,  or 
they  assured  me  that  at  the  first  threat  of  war  the  British 
Empire  would  go  to  pieces  like  fruit  that  is  of  a  large 
size  but  soft  and  rotten  at  the  core.  This  would  not 
matter  to  me,  they  said,  because  I  had  married  a  German 
and  would  naturally  rejoice  when  the  day  came  that  made 
my  husband's  country,  and  therefore  my  country,  the 
most  powerful  in  the  world  as  it  was  already  the  most 
civilized  and  intellectual. 

"I  had  no  idea  that  Germans  boasted  so  much,"  I  said 
to  Wolfram  one  day  when  we  had  been  to  the  von  Gosens 
and  heard  a  great  deal  of  this  kind  of  thing  in  its  crudest 
form. 

But  he  said  it  was  not  boasting.  It  was  just  a  state- 
ment of  fact.  Other  countries  were  all  behind  Germany 
in  morals,  comfort,  art,  science,  education,  philanthropy, 
industry  and  war:  especially  in  war;  and  some  day  it 
would  become  necessary  to  give  other  countries  a  lesson 
and  raise  them  to  the  German  standard  whether  they 
wanted  to  be  raised  or  not.  They  had  a  mission  in  the 
world,  he  said,  and  I  as  an  Englishwoman  ought  to 
understand  that  when  you  have  a  mission  you  must 
fulfill  it,  even  if  it  costs  you  and  those  you  propose  to 
benefit  much  money  and  suffering.  Besides,  there  was 
the  famous  place  in  the  sun  waiting  somewhere  for  the 
children  of  Germany  to  take  and  occupy.  He  would 
not  say  where  yet,  but  India,  for  instance,  under  firm 
German  rule  would  be  a  very  different  and  a  far  more 
profitable  country  to  its  owners  than  India  is  now. 

The  only  effect  of  this  kind  of  talk  on  me  was  to 
make  me  homesick.  I  did  not  find  I  got  a  bit  more 


THE  DEVIL'S  CRADLE  123 

German  because  I  had  married  Wolfram.  On  the  con- 
trary. When  I  lived  in  England  I  saw  things  that  I 
did  not  like,  but  when  I  lived  in  Germany  even  the  im- 
perfections of  my  country  pulled  at  my  heart-strings. 
The  life  at  Hohenroda  was  agreeable  on  the  whole,  but 
I  felt  a  stranger  within  the  gates  as  long  as  I  was  there. 
No  doubt  it  was  trying  for  Wolfram's  parents  to  have 
a  foreign  daughter-in-law  suddenly  thrust  upon  them: 
and  the  trouble  was  that  I  did  not  become  less  foreign 
as  time  went  on.  I  was  willing  to  fall  in  with  their  ways 
but  not  with  their  ideas;  and  that  did  not  satisfy  them. 
Besides,  my  attitude  towards  Max  gave  umbrage  and  I 
could  not  change  it.  They  saw  me  look  at  him  uneasily 
and  that  offended  them;  if  he  spoke  to  me  they  pricked 
up  their  ears  and  on  his  birthday  which  fell  in  October 
on  a  Sunday  there  was  another  row.  This  time  it  was 
not  Herr  Putzer  who  made  it  but  the  Grafin,  who  was 
a  placid  person  as  long  as  the  meals  went  well  and  we 
were  all  there  to  the  minute  to  eat  them.  The  birthday 
dinner  had  been  a  most  successful  affair,  beginning  with 
Nudelsuppe,  continuing  with  roast  goose  and  finishing 
with  Meringuetorte  all  of  which  dishes  Max  had  him- 
self chosen  because  in  spite  of  being  Hohenroda  and 
Eschenau  he  had  a  bourgeois  palate  and  liked  them.  So 
did  I:  but  when  I  saw  the  sun  shining  out  of  doors 
I  wanted  some  air  and  exercise ;  especially  as  I  had  just 
been  told  that  there  would  be  chocolate  and  whipped 
cream  at  five  o'clock  instead  of  tea,  because  for  a  birth- 
day tea  was  considered  thin.  I  could  see  that  the  roast 
goose  had  acted  as  a  soporific  on  everyone  except  me. 
Herr  Putzer  had  bowed,  murmured  Mahlzeit  and  dis- 
appeared. The  Graf  and  Wolfram  were  smoking  big 
cigars  and  drinking  black  coffee  and  liqueur  brandy;  the 


124  THE  DEVIL'S  CRADLE 

Grafin  had  closed  her  eyes  although  she  had  her  knitting 
in  her  hands  and  her  brown  dachshund  was  licking  his 
lips  drowsily  and  making  up  his  mind  that  he  felt  in- 
clined for  a  nap.  He  had  had  his  share  of  the  roast 
goose  by  means  of  standing  on  his  hind  legs  and  pulling 
its  savory  remains  off  the  dish  when  it  had  been  taken 
outside.  The  old  butler  who  waited  on  us  had  found 
him  enjoying  it  and  had  rated  him  in  such  loud  indig- 
nant tones  that  we  should  have  guessed  what  had  hap- 
pened if  he  had  not  told  us  all  about  it  when  he  brought 
the  coffee.  He  added  that  he  had  luckily  been  able  to 
rescue  most  of  it  and  that  some  had  gone  up  to  the 
Fraulein  as  his  gracious  lady  had  desired.  I  looked  at 
Max,  for  in  that  house  if  I  wanted  to  twinkle,  I  had  to. 
I  supposed  it  was  the  Eschenau  blood  in  him.  The 
Hohenrodas  had  magnificent  qualities,  but  none  of  them 
twinkled. 

"She  will  never  know,"  he  whispered.  "Besides,  Fritz 
is  a  very  clean  dog  and  such  a  nice  one.  I  would  rather 
eat  after  him  than  after  Herr  Putzer." 

"So  would  I." 

"Shall  we  take  him  with  us  ?" 

"Will  he  come?" 

Max  snapped  his  fingers  at  Fritz,  attracted  his  atten- 
tion and  persuaded  him  to  rise  slowly  and  lazily. 

"Where  are  you  going?"  said  Wolfram,  watching  the 
three  of  us  make  off  together,  like  stage  conspirators, 
softly  and  cautiously. 

"For  a  walk,"  said  I. 

"After  a  meal  one  should  sit  still  and  digest,"  said  the 
Grafin,  "if  it  has  been  a  meal." 

It  had  been  a  meal  and  no  mistake  about  it:  a  fat 
luscious  one,  clogging  body  and  brain. 


THE  DEVIL'S  CRADLE  12$ 

"There  will  be  another  meal  in  three  hours,"  I  said. 
"Unless  we  walk  off  the  effects  of  this  one  ..." 

I  saw  by  their  faces  we  had  permission  to  go. 

"We  have  three  hours,"  I  said  to  Max.  "We  have 
never  had  three  hours  together  since  we  came  except 
when  I  ran  away  with  you  to  Reichenstadt." 

"That  was  heavenly,"  said  Max.  "I  wish  we  could 
have  had  the  car  to-day." 

"I  don't  want  the  car.  I  want  you  to  take  me  to  the 
caves." 

"That  is  very  far." 

"How  far?" 

"Perhaps  an  hour." 

"We  have  three." 

"That  is  true,  but  the  way  there  is  rough.  It  is  a 
walk  for  summer.  Now  the  paths  are  wet  and  slippery 
with  fallen  leaves." 

I  said  I  didn't  mind  that.  I  had  not  had  a  scramble 
for  days.  In  fact  unless  you  went  right  beyond  the 
forest  surrounding  the  castle  you  couldn't  have  a  scramble 
but  only  dull  decorous  walks  on  well-made,  well-kept 
roads.  I  wanted  to  get  beyond  the  forest  amongst  the 
rocks  which  were  limestone  and  very.  fine.  From  the 
car  I  had  seen  the  bit  I  proposed  to  get  to  this  afternoon 
and  I  had  been  told  that  there  were  some  stalactite  caves 
there  and  that  when  summer  came  again  we  would 
have  an  Ausflug  and  visit  them.  But  why  wait  for  sum- 
mer if  they  were  within  an  hour's  walk?  Max  could 
not  answer  this  question  to  my  satisfaction,  but  he  looked 
doubtful  and  said  something  about  wet  paths  again. 

"We  are  not  sugar,"  I  told  him.  "We  can't  melt," 
and  with  his  little  air  of  chivalrous  anxiety  to  do  any- 
thing I  wanted  and  to  afford  me  his  protection  while  we 


126  THE  DEVIL'S  CRADLE 

did  it  he  started  in  the  direction  of  the  caves,  saying 
that  for  his  part  he  did  not  mind  wet  paths  at  all,  but 
rather  liked  them. 

"I  like  everything  out  of  doors  always,"  I  said  rashly 
and  then  remembered  hating  an  east  wind  in  London 
streets  with  gritty  dust  blowing  into  one's  eyes. 

"But  even  that  is  better  than  sitting  indoors  with  the 
windows  shut." 

"But  if  windows  are  open  there  must  be  a  draught." 

"Let  there  be  a  draught.  What  is  a  draught  ?  A  cur- 
rent of  air.  Bracing  and  refreshing." 

"It  gives  earache." 

"I've  never  had  earache  in  rny  life." 

"He  has  had  much  earache  lately.  He  thinks  his  ear 
received  a  shock  when  .  »  .  you  know  when  ..." 

Max's  eyes  were  twinkling  again.  We  both  knew 
when  Herr  Putzer's  ear  was  supposed  to  have  received 
a  shock  and  we  both  found  the  reminiscence  curiously 
consoling. 

"He  hasn't  forgiven  me,"  I  said. 

"He  never  will." 

"But,  Max,  it  was  unintentional.  It  was  an  accident. 
I  should  not  do  a  thing  like  that  on  purpose." 

"I  would,"  said  Max.  "Often  I  think  of  it,  and  when 
I  think  of  it  I  believe  he  knows.  Then  he  gets  angry." 

"But  that  is  bad  for  you." 

"I  have  my  pleasure  out  of  it,"  said  the  boy. 


THE  DEVIL'S  CRADLE  127 


xxiy 

BEYOND  the  forest  immediately  surrounding  the 
castle  the  land  was  wild  and  broken :  a  hill  coun- 
try with  huge  rocks  standing  amongst  tracts  of 
bilberry  and  heather,  in  some  places  treeless  and  in  others 
having  trees  of  various  kinds  planted  by  the  birds  and 
the  winds.  The  autumn  colors  were  beautiful  in  this 
uncultivated  region,  for  the  bilberry  leaves  were  the 
colors  of  flames ;  the  bracken,  having  drunk  of  sunshine 
all  the  summer,  seemed  now  to  give  it  back  to  us  in  the 
glowing  warmth  of  its  brown  fronds,  and  the  trees' 
leaves,  faded  to  gold,  glistened  in  the  moist  air  and  fell 
like  sighs  about  us.  I  asked  Max  if  he  was  sure  of 
the  way  and  he  said  that  he  could  not  miss  it  because  the 
path  we  were  on  led  to  the  caves  and  nowhere  else.  I 
asked  hirri  if  he  knew  when  it  had  been  made,  hoping 
for  some  romantic  story  of  hiding  and  escape,  but  he 
knew  of  none.  It  was  old,  he  said.  No  one  used  it 
much  now  and  in  some  places  it  was  out  of  repair. 

"Are  there  stories  about  the  caves  ?"  I  asked. 

"I  never  heard  any." 

"Did  people  never  hide  in  them?" 

He  could  not  tell  me.  It  was  not  the  kind  of  thing 
Herr  Putzer  taught  him  or  encouraged  him  to  find  out. 
Here  he  stood  on  land  that  had  belonged  to  his  ancestors 
since  the  time  of  the  first  crusaders  and  all  he  knew  about 
this  part  of  it  was  that  his  grandfather  said  it  was  un- 
profitable. 

"I've  only  married  your  father,"  I  said,  "but  I  believe 
I  take  more  interest  in  your  family  than  you  do.  Don't 


128  THE  DEVIL'S  CRADLE 

you  want  to  know  what  Hohenrodas  were  doing  here 
seven  hundred  years  ago  ?" 

"It  would  be  dreaming.  If  I  dream  I  shall  fail  and 
if  I  again  fail  ..." 

"Fail!  How  are  you  going  to  fail?  How  have  you 
failed?" 

"Has  my  father  never  told  you?" 

"No." 

"He  will  not  speak  of  it.  He  felt  it  too  deeply.  I 
bring  shame  upon  him." 

"My  dear  boy,  how?" 

"By  missing  my  promotion  at  school.  By  remaining 
in  a  lower  class  at  school.  Once  it  has  happened.  It 
may  not  happen  again." 

The  look  of  despair  on  the  boy's  face  startled  me 
although  I  had  become  used  to  the  idea  that  he  was 
overworked  and  out  of  spirits:  if  you  can  be  said  to 
be  used  to  the  idea  that  someone  near  and  dear  to  you 
is  suffering.  I  suppose  the  degree  to  which  you  can 
become  used  depends  on  your  temperament.  I  put  my 
arm  round  his  shoulders  and  we  walked  together  for  a 
while  along  the  narrow  path. 

"Don't  worry,"  I  said,  "if  you  fail  you  can  try  again." 

"You  don't  understand,"  he  muttered.  "The  disgrace 
would  be  unbearable." 

"How  can  there  be   ^sgrace  without  wrong-doing?" 

But  he  could  not  take  my  point  of  view.  He  went  on 
talking  like  a  little  old  man  about  the  importance  to 
his  future  of  his  school  career  and  of  the  dreadful  trouble 
there  had  been  in  the  house  last  year  when  it  was  known 
that  he  was  durchgefallen.  He  told  me  that  this  had 
happened  to  a  cousin  of  his  three  times,  after  which  he 
had  been  expelled  from  the  Gymnasium,  and  that  the 


THE  DEVIL'S  CRADLE  129 

stain  of  this  boy's  failure  remained  like  a  blight  on  the 
family  and  would  do  so  till  Max  wiped  it  out  if  he 
could. 

"But  you  will  be  Graf  Hohenroda  anyhow,"  I  said, 
and  I  would  not  have  said  it  if  he  had  been  an  idle 
unconscientious  boy. 

"It  is  not  enough,"  he  said. 

"What  is  your  cousin  doing?" 

"I  cannot  tell  you." 

We  walked  on  in  silence  and  I  saw  that  Max  had 
something  that  he  was  half  anxious  to  communicate  and 
half  inclined  to  keep  to  himself.  I  did  not  want  to  in- 
fluence him  either  way  and  I  was  just  going  to  talk  of 
something  more  cheerful  when  he  said: 

"He  is  dead." 

His  manner  was  so  agitated  that  I  thought  he  had 
better  tell  me  the  whole  story  so  that  I  could  judge  how 
far  it  was  weighing  on  his  mind  and  share  the  burden 
of  it  with  him  if  I  could." 

"How  did  he  die?"  I  asked. 

"He  drowned  himself." 

"How  old  was  he  ?" 

"Fifteen.    Two  years  older  than  me." 

All  the  melancholy  of  the  dying  year  seemed  to  enfold 
us  as  we  walked  on  amongst  those  fluttering  golden 
leaves  and  watched  the  flight  of  migrating  birds  across 
the  October  sky.  For  the  first  time  I  seemed  to  under- 
stand the  tragic  background  of  Max's  thoughts  and  to 
see  the  specter  that  brought  terror  into  his  eyes :  a  terror 
that  had  never  been  explained  by  anything  I  saw  in  his 
treatment,  harsh  and  grinding  though  that  was, 

"Had  he  a  father  and  mother  ?"  I  asked, 

"Yes," 


130  THE  DEVIL'S  CRADLE 

"He  brought  a  great  sorrow  on  them." 

"He  had  no  choice.  It  is  better  to  die  than  to  live 
dishonored.  My  grandfather  said  so  when  he  heard 
of  it." 

I  argued  with  him  till  we  were  nearly  at  the  entrance 
of  the  caves,  but  I  made  no  impression.  It  was  no  use 
to  say  that  a  man  can  do  good  work  in  the  world  even 
if  his  classics  and  mathematics  have  been  weak  at  school, 
because  a  German  can  only  enter  the  world  by  way  of 
the  army  and  a  Hohenroda  cannot  enter  the  army  by 
the  appointed  gate  if  he  has  been  cast  out  of  school. 
I  could  have  understood  the  state  of  things  better  if  all 
the  officers  I  had  met  had  been  men  of  ability  and  in- 
tellect. Some  obviously  were,  but  some  others  were 
conspicuously  stupid  and  vain.  Eduard  von  Gosen  for  in- 
stance. How  had  Eduard  von  Gosen  with  his  silly  laugh 
and  vacant  mind  managed  to  do  better  at  school  than 
my  little  Max  who  had  a  soul  and  a  brain?  Max  could 
not  explain  it,  but  he  told  me  that  he  was  sleeping  badly 
and  that  at  night  when  he  lay  thinking  of  next  day's 
work  he  could  do  it,  but  that  when  he  was  in  class  his 
mind  seemed  to  refuse  and  give  way.  The  masters 
complained  that  he  did  not  attend  and  looked  asleep 
when  he  should  have  been  most  awake,  and  they  con- 
doled with  Herr  Putzer  for  having  such  a  dull  un- 
promising pupil. 

"It  i3  -ry  unfortunate,"  he  said.  "I  know  I  am 
stupid." 

"You  are  not  stupid,"  I  said  indignantly.  "You'd  be 
all  right  if  you  went  to  Eton." 

"But  then  I  should  learn  nothing,"  he  said,  too  anxious 
and  unhappy  to  remember  that  a  remark  of  that  kind 
was  not  a  courteous  one  to  make  to  me.  "At  least  Herr 


THE  DEVIL'S  CRADLE  131 

Putzer  says  that  in  English  schools  nothing  is  taught  at 
all.  The  boys  play  games  all  day." 

"When  Herr  Putzer  talks  about  England  he  makes  a 
fool  of  himself,"  I  said  bluntly.  "Besides,  games  are 
good  for  boys.  I  wish  you  played  more  and  worked 
less.  You'd  probably  work  better." 

Then  we  went  into  the  great  cave  formed  in  the  lime- 
stone "fault"  and  I  found  it  was  like  one  I  had  seen  in 
Yorkshire  years  ago.  Max  had  brought  an  electric 
torch  with  him  which  we  used  when  we  got  beyond  the 
daylight  and  it  lit  up  the  stalactites  hanging  like  icicles 
from  the  roof.  It  was  very  beautiful  in  the  depths  of 
the  cave  but  eerie  and  damp  and  chilly  so  that  I  was 
glad  to  reach  the  end  and  turn  back.  Max  was  de- 
termined that  I  must  see  the  end  or  I  should  not  have 
persevered.  If  I  had  a  poetical  soul  I  could  describe 
the  gloom  and  the  silence  and  the  glimmer  of  light  we 
threw  on  the  huge  crystal  spikes  that  had  been  forming 
there  for  ages  and  would  still  be  there  when  we  and 
the  generations  to  come  were  dust:  but  as  I'm  the  most 
matter  of  fact  of  Londoners,  in  fact  a  cockney,  I  could 
not  help  thinking  of  pantomime  caves  and  of  the  prin- 
cipal boy  and  girl  lost  in  one.  Perhaps  the  thought 
came  because  Max's  torch  seemed  to  get  fainter  and 
fainter  so  that  we  stumbled  over  the  uneven  ground,  get- 
ting little  help  from  it.  It  went  out  altogether  before 
long,  but  by  that  time  we  could  see  the  entrance  and  what 
was  left  of  the  daylight  beyond.  Fritz  kept  beside  us 
soberly,  and  Max  said  that  he  had  been  brought  to  the 
cave  before  and  hated  it. 

"We  must  be  quick,"  said  Max  anxiously,  but  we 
could  not  be  quick  inside  the  cave  and  on  the  way  home 
we  had  to  go  carefully  wherever  the  path  was  rough  or 


132  THE  DEVIL'S  CRADLE 

the  trees  close  enough  on  either  side  to  shut  out  the 
dusk.  In  the  pine  forest  near  the  house  it  was  pitch 
dark  by  the  time  we  reached  it,  but  luckily  the  path 
was  so  well  made  there  and  the  trees  so  regularly  planted 
that  we  could  feel  our  way.  We  should  not  have 
minded  anything  if  the  thought  of  the  birthday  celebra- 
tion and  our  lateness  for  it  had  not  ridden  us  like  a 
nightmare.  For  there  was  to  be  an  enormous  birthday 
cake  baked  and  iced  for  the  occasion.  Thirteen  candles 
would  be  burning  on  it  and  all  the  servants  of  the  house- 
hold were  coming  in  to  wish  the  little  Graf  happiness 
and  to  receive  a  slice  of  cake  at  his  hands.  It  really 
was  dreadful  of  us  to  be  unpunctual  on  such  an  occasion 
and  though  I  meant  to  put  the  blame  on  the  torch  it 
would  not  be  the  torch  who  encountered  angry  glances 
and  rebuke. 

Max  turned  very  silent.  I  think  he  had  a  clearer 
vision  than  I  had  of  the  family  group  awaiting  us.  The 
cake  was  cut,  the  candles  were  burnt  down,  the  Graf 
and'Grafin  looked  as  if  we  had  done  them  an  injury 
we  could  never  expiate  and  Wolfram  had  the  air  of  a 
man  whose  belongings  have  let  him  down  badly. 

"Max's  torch  went  out,"  I  said  breathlessly.  "We  are 
so  sorry.  We  were  as  quick  as  we  could,  but  it  was 
dark  as  night  in  the  forest  and  pretty  dark  in  the  cave." 

"At  the  end  of  October  one  does  not  visit  caves," 
said  the  Grafin. 

"Verruckt,"  said  Wolfram. 

"One  goes  in  summer  and  takes  candles  .  .  .  plenty 
of  candles.  One  does  not  fly  off  without  any  preparation 
and  be  an  hour  late  for  an  occasion  that  the  servants 
consider  important  and  look  forward  to  with  pleasure." 


THE  DEVIL'S  CRADLE  133 

"One  is  attentive  in  these  matters,"  said  the  Graf 
severely,  "if  one  is  properly  brought  up." 

The  worst  of  it  was  that  they  were  right.  Max  and 
I  both  felt  inclined  to  crawl  under  the  table,  but  as  we 
could  not  do  that  we  sat  there  humbly  and  drank  cold 
chocolate  and  ate  slices  of  cake  that  choked  us.  At  least 
we  felt  so  at  first:  but  our  walk  had  made  us  forget  the 
goose  and  be  glad  of  the  chocolate  and  cake.  We  were 
both  disheveled  and  muddy  and  in  disgrace  again.  But 
the  glow  of  exercise  sustained  us  and  the  chocolate  and 
cake  restored  us.  We  looked  at  each  other  over  the 
brim  of  our  cups  and  I  winked  at  Max  and  Wolfram 
saw  me. 


XXV 

FIRST  Wilkins  and  then  Wolfram !  and  I  a  married 
woman  with  a  will  and  a  temper  of  my  own. 
Wilkins'  heart  had  gone  pit-a-pat  because  I  had 
stayed  out  after  dark  ...  in  those  forests. 

"Hearts  always  do  go  pit-a-pat,"  I  said. 

"Not  mine,  ma'am,  unless  I  am  put  out.  Fright  does 
it  or  being  upset." 

"You  need  never  be  frightened  about  me.  I  can  take 
care  of  myself." 

"Not  in  the  forest  after  dark.  You  might  sprain  your 
ankle  or  you  might  be  murdered.  Either  would  be  un- 
pleasant." 

"My  dear  woman,  who  do  you  suppose  wants  to 
murder  me?" 

"You  never  know.  Some  of  the  people  I  meet  look 
as  if  they  would  do  anyone  in  for  a  shilling.  I  dunno 


134  THE  DEVIL'S  CRADLE 

how  it  is.  They  keep  telling  me  no  one  in  Germany 
is  allowed  to  be  idle  or  poor,  but  such  tramps  I  never 
did  see  anywhere,  never.  Scarecrows  aren't  in  it,"  said 
iWilkins,  and  turned  her  attention  to  my  boots  and  skirt 
which  were  sopping  and  to  my  hat  which  was  sopping, 
too,  though  there  had  been  no  rain. 

"There  was  a  drip  in  the  cave,"  I  said,  and  told  her 
where  Max  and  I  had  been.  She  listened  with  interest, 
but  said  she  hoped  I  wouldn't  do  it  again  because  it  put 
out  people  so.  She  had  felt  quite  sorry  for  the  Grafin 
when  she  went  in  to  see  the  birthday  cake  and  the  thirteen 
candles  burning  on  it ;  for  thirteen  was  an  unlucky  num- 
ber and  on  that  account  if  you  were  upset  at  all  you 
would  be  more  upset  than  usual.  She  had  heard  the 
Grafin  say  something  to  the  Graf  about  the  darkness 
which  would  soon  descend  and  hide  the  path,  and  he 
had  answered  gruffly  in  German.  Wilkins  guessed  from 
his  manner  that  he  had  said,  "Let  it  descend,"  and  she 
felt  sure  that  if  she  had  suggested  sending  out  a  search- 
party  she  would  have  had  her  head  snapped  off.  That 
was  why  her  heart  had  given  her  so  much  trouble.  She 
had  stood  at  the  window  staring  into  the  dusk,  watching 
and  waiting  for  me  to  come,  and  1  did  not  come.  If 
she  had  been  in  England  she  would  have  sent  off  two 
men  with  lanterns  without  saying  with  your  leave  or 
by  your  leave.  But  in  this  house  if  you  winked  an  eye- 
lid when  eyelids  were  not  supposed  to  be  winked  you 
were  told  that  it  was  forbidden.  Only  the  other  morning 
at  eleven  the  Grafin  happened  on  her  when  she  had 
made  a  cup  of  tea  for  the  little  Mamsell  and  herself 
and,  looking  daggers  drawn,  had  said  she  did  not  allow 
tea  to  be  taken  at  that  hour.  Thereupon  Wilkins  had 
explained  that  it  was  her  own  tea  and  her  own  sugar 


THE  DEVIL'S  CRADLE  135 

and  her  own  biscuits  and  that  the  only  thing  supplied 
by  the  establishment  was  a  drop  of  milk. 

"Did  that  smooth  matters  ?"  I  asked. 

"Not  at  all.  Poor  Mamsell  got  it  in  the  neck  because 
she  was  wasting  her  time  and  something  was  said  of  me 
the  reverse  of  complimentary.  I  may  not  understand 
much  German,  but  I  know  when  a  lady  with  a  short 
temper  is  annoyed.  The  little  Mamsell  is  a  nice  little 
thing  but  too  sentimental.  She  has  a  young  gentleman, 
whom  she  calls  her  Schatz.  You  should  hear  her  carry 
on  about  him.  In  England  we  should  think  it  silly  and 
bad  for  the  men.  She  asked  me  if  I'd  ever  had  one?" 

"What  did  you  say,  Wilkins?" 

"I  said  certainly  .  .  .  several  .  .  .  but  that  I  kept 
'em  in  their  places  and  recommended  her  to  do  the  same. 
I  made  no  impression  though,  for  next  day  she  was 
sighing  and  singing  just  the  same.  There's  a  song  she 
sings  about  him,  ma'am,  I  wonder  if  you  know  it?  One 
line  is:  'He's  so  mild,  he's  so  good.'  I  told  her  I  didn't 
like  mild  men  and  that  put  her  out.  They're  very  easily 
put  out,  I  find ;  don't  you,  ma'am  ?" 

I  thought  so  the  next  moment  when  Wolfram  appeared 
and,  after  dismissing  Wilkins  with  a  look,  carried  on  the 
exhortation  she  had  begun.  His  heart  had  gone  pit-a- 
pat,  it  seemed.  Anyhow  he  had  been  anxious  and  angry 
and  I  was  never  to  do  it  again  on  any  account.  Never. 
Did  I  understand? 

"I  shouldn't  have  done  it  this  time  if  Max's  torch 
had  not  failed  us,"  I  said.  "That  delayed  us  more  than 
an  hour." 

When  Wolfram  was  on  the  high  horse  he  would  not 
listen  to  reason,  and  he  then  and  there  laid  down  the 
law  that  I  was  not  to  go  beyond  the  Hohenroda  domain 


136  THE  DEVIL'S  CRADLE 

unless  he  knew  of  it.  I  quite  understood  that  this  decree 
was  promulgated  for  my  good,  but  it  made  me  feel  like 
a  bird  in  a  cage  and  I  told  him  so.  He  said  that  if 
I  had  foolish  feelings  he  could  not  help  it  and  that  at 
any  rate  I  must  do  as  I  was  bid. 

"Why  must  I?" 

"Because  you  are  my  wife.    You  promised  to." 

"If  I  had  not  promised  we  could  not  have  been  mar- 
ried?" 

"No." 

"And  we  wanted  to  marry  each  other." 

"More  than  anything  in  the  world  we  wanted  it." 

"I  would  have  promised  anything  ...  it  isn't  fair, 
is  it?" 

"What  is  not  fair,  Karen?" 

"For  men  to  make  a  marriage-service  that  suits  them 
and  say  that  women  must  either  be  married  by  it  or 
not  be  married  at  all." 

"These  sentiments  are  subversive  and  unworthy  of 
you,  Karen.  You  have  only  to  observe  Nature  to  dis- 
cover that  the  male  is  the  dominant  animal." 

"Not  always,  Wolfram.     For  instance  spiders   ..." 

"We  are  not  spiders.  We  are  highly  civilized  human 
beings.  At  least  we  are  in  Germany,  and  as  my  wife 
you  now  count  socially  and  politically  as  a  German." 

"Then  politically  I  don't  count  at  all,"  I  said.  "You 
are  frightfully  behind  the  times  in  that  way." 

In  half  a  minute  we  were  talking  about  suffragettes 
and  when  Wolfram  got  on  to  that  subject  we  joined 
issue.  He  seemed  to  think  that  their  existence  was  a 
reflection  on  the  English  race  and  an  irrefragable  proof 
of  its  decadence. 

"In  Germany  they  would  not  be  tolerated,"  he  main- 


THE  DEVIL'S  CRADLE  137 

tained.  "If  they  committed  crimes  they  would  be  treated 
as  criminals  and  put  in  prison." 

I  pointed  out  that  we  did  that,  but  he  seemed  to  think 
we  didn't  do  it  enough :  and  he  came  back  to  the  pre- 
valent German  belief  that  there  was  something  rotten  in 
the  state  of  England. 

"Are  you  sure  there  is  nothing  rotten  in  the  state  of 
Germany?"  I  said. 

"What  do  you  mean?"  he  asked,  ready  to  bristle  at 
once.  So  I  told  him  what  Max  had  told  me  that  after- 
noon about  the  suicide  of  his  cousin  after  he  had  been 
expelled  from  school. 

"He  should  not  have  spoken  of  it,"  said  Wolfram. 
"You  are  a  foreigner  and  cannot  understand.  The  poor 
boy  was  highly  nervous  and  unbalanced:  in  fact,  an 
Eschenau." 

I  felt  inclined  to  remind  Wolfram  that  his  own  son 
was  an  Eschenau,  but  it  would  have  dotted  the  i's  rather 
brutally  just  then;  and  perhaps  he  was  right  about 
foreigners.  To  hear  Germans  talk  of  us  was  an  object- 
lesson  in  misunderstanding  and  I  could  not  help  wonder- 
ing whether  we  ever  made  fools  of  ourselves  to  the 
same  extent  when  we  talked  of  them. 

"Only  we  never  talk  of  you  at  all,"  I  said  to  Herr 
Putzer  that  night  at  supper.  "Until  you  built  a  navy 
you  were  not  on  our  tongues  or  in  our  thoughts  except 
when  we  listened  to  a  Wagner  opera  or  bought  a  German 
sausage." 

"So  much  the  better  for  us,"  said  Herr  Putzer,  help- 
ing himself  largely  to  a  chicken  mayonnaise. 

"Our  navy  is  built  for  commercial  defense,"  said  the 
Graf.  "I  suppose  we  are  allowed  to  protect  ourselves 
without  asking  England's  permission." 


138  THE  DEVIL'S  CRADLE 

I  said  I  didn't  know  much  about  it,  which  was  not 
quite  true.  In  1913  you  couldn't  live  three  months  in 
Germany  without  knowing  some  things  no  one  at  home 
seemed  to  know :  and  the  chief  one  was  the  German  state 
of  mind.  But  I  got  so  tired  of  having  it  exhibited  that 
I  would  have  said  almost  anything  to  get  it  put  away. 
I  had  reached  the  point  of  letting  Herr  Putzer  win  the 
battle  of  Waterloo,  hindered  rather  than  helped  by  the 
English,  who  were  in  the  last  stage  of  panic  when  the 
invincible  Prussians  arrived  and  turned  defeat  into  vic- 
tory. All  his  history  was  like  that.  I  found  that  Max 
had  the  most  peculiar  ideas  about  any  event  that  gave 
us  the  glory.  You  cannot  imagine  the  "facts"  he  had 
been  told  about  Nelson  and  his  piratical  career,  and  I 
should  like  to  draw  you  the  picture  I  found  on  one  of 
his  copy  books  of  Boer  children  tied  to  the  wheels  of 
an  English  gun,  some  crushed  by  them  and  some  just 
going  to  be.  German  children  are  taught  English  his- 
tory in  this  way  and  I  told  Herr  Putzer  it  was  as  un- 
scrupulous as  the  use  of  leaded  weights.  But  he  clicked 
his  teeth  and  said  that  all  history  he  taught  was  true 
and  that  Germans  were  too  noble  and  honest  to  falsify 
facts  and  that  I  probably  had  never  heard  the  German 
proverb  about  lies  having  short  legs. 

"You  probably  don't  expect  the  legs  to  reach  beyond 
your  own  frontier,"  I  said.  "Do  you  mean  to  say  that 
you  believe  we  tied  Boer  children  to  our  guns  ?" 

"Such  things  happen  in  war." 

"Not  in  our  wars.    We  don't  murder  children." 

"You  did  in  South  Africa  ...  in  thousands." 

"Stuff  and  nonsense!" 

That  did  it.  He  said  I  had  insulted  him  again,  buf 
that  it  perhaps  served  him  right  for  condescending  to 


THE  DEVIL'S  CRADLE  139 

discuss  questions  of  history  with  a  lady  and  one  who 
came  from  a  country  where  the  serious  study  of  history 
was  unknown.  I  reeled  off  the  names  of  some  of  our 
leading  historians  and  said  they  didn't  tell  silly  lies  about 
foreign  countries,  but  he  only  clicked  his  teeth  and  made 
that  peculiarly  irritating  noise  you  can  hardly  convey 
in  writing,  but  which  sounds  like  Tscha. 

"Little  treasure,"  said  Wolfram,  drawing  me  aside, 
"when  you  fizz  like  a  Brausepulver  about  England  you 
seems  as  childish  as  Max,  and  how  can  you  who  know 
nothing  expect  to  convince  a  man  like  Putzer,  whose 
learning  is  stupendous?" 

"But  what  is  the  use  of  knowing  everything  if  you 
know  it  all  wrong?"  I  asked,  and  Wolfram  shook  his 
head  and  said  that  I  was  wanting  in  reverence. 


XXVI 

THE  winter  at  Hohenroda  was  much  colder  than 
winter  ever  is  in  London,  but  it  was  crisp  and 
bright  and  indescribably  beautiful.  If  I  think 
of  London  about  five  o'clock  on  a  December  afternoon 
I  see  flashing  lights,  unceasing  traffic,  mud,  mist,  crowds, 
paper  boys,  big  policemen,  and  perhaps  a  young  moon  sail- 
ing amongst  the  clouds.  If  I  looked  out  of  my  windows 
at  Hohenroda  I  saw  a  fairyland  of  snow  lying  like  a 
soft  fleece  in  the  valley,  snow  on  the  hills,  snow  weigh- 
ing down  the  forest  trees,  and  often  enough  snow 
falling,  falling  without  pause  and  without  sound:  for  it 
was  not  a  windy  country.  The  car  was  put  away  till 
the  roads  should  be  clear  again,  and,  well  wrapped  up, 
we  went  about  in  furs,  which  I  thought  delightful. 


140  THE  DEVIL'S  CRADLE 

There  was  a  village  of  Hohenroda  and  I  wondered 
if  there  was  distress  amongst  the  villagers  and  why  the 
Grafin  did  not  visit  them  if  they  were  her  tenants  and 
find  out  if  they  wanted  coal  and  soup  and  blankets.  In 
fact,  I  had  some  idea  of  starting  the  kind  of  mothers' 
meetings  and  clothing-  and  coal-clubs  you  read  of  in 
English  novels  about  country  life.  I  had  no  experience 
of  such  things  because  I  had  always  lived  in  London, 
but  Wilkins  told  me  that  the  Duchess  had  been  most 
active  and  energetic  on  her  estates  and  had  dismissed 
any  families  who  refused  to  fall  in  with  her  views  about 
religion,  politics,  thrift,  and  hygeine.  But  I  pointed  out 
to  Wilkins  that  England  is  a  free  country  where  even 
a  Duchess  can  do  as  she  pleases  while  probably  here 
the  Hohenrodas  had  to  make  the  best  of  the  families 
happening  to  live  on  their  lands.  However,  I  talked  to 
the  Grafin  about  it  and  she  explained  that  her  husband 
had  no  more  power  over  the  peasants  than  they  had 
over  him  in  this  part  of  Germany.  It  was  different  north 
and  east  where  the  Junkers  owned  enormous  stretches  of 
land  and  still  talked  of  the  villagers  as  meine  Leute. 
There  the  laborers  were  still  not  much  better  off  than 
serfs.  But  here  the  farming  folk  owned  their  land  and 
distress  was  unknown  amongst  them  unless  brought  about 
by  drink.  Many  of  them  were  very  well  off  and  sent 
a  son  to  a  university  so  that  he  might  become  a  doctor 
or  a  pastor  or  even  a  professor  as  learned  as  Herr 
Putzer.  I  was  rather  surprised  because  I  had  been  read- 
ing some  celebrated  German  plays  about  people  bestially 
poor  and  degraded:  but  the  Grafin  said  they  described 
life  in  the  villages  of  Silesia  and  some  parts  of  Saxony 
where  there  was  great  poverty  amongst  the  industrial 


THE  DEVIL'S  CRADLE  141 

population.  Certainly  all  the  peasants  I  met  on  the  roads 
trudging  beside  their  carts  or  in  their  sleighs,  all  these 
hefty  men  and  buxom  women,  looked  prosperous  and 
solid.  They  wore  the  most  attractive  clothes,  especially 
on  Sundays.  The  men  were  big-boned  and  mostly  had 
dark  clean-cut  faces  rather  like  our  legal  type.  They 
turned  out  in  long  black  velvet  coats,  beaver  hats, 
scarlet  waistcoats  and  knee  breeches.  The  women  wore 
short,  full,  brightly-colored  skirts,  black  velvet  boleros 
over  elaborate  chemises  and  heavy  silver  chains  and 
most  becoming  black  gauze  caps  with  wired  blinkers  like 
little  wings.  They  lived  in  old  wooden  houses  with 
deep  thatched  eaves  and  outside  staircases.  The  brown 
of  the  thatch  and  the  timber  was  mellow  with  age,  the 
rooms  on  the  first  floor  were  large  and  furnished  for 
the  most  part  with  solid  plain  furniture,  some  of  it 
having  come  down  to  the  owners  through  generations. 
When  I  peeped  into  a  bedroom  I  saw  two  wooden  bed- 
steads neatly  made  with  homespun  linen  and  a  plumeau 
like  a  mountain.  Then  there  would  be  a  dark  roomy 
wooden  press  for  clothes,  a  couple  of  chairs,  a  hanging 
glass  and  a  washstand  with  a  basin  and  a  glass  bottle 
in  the  basin  for  water.  But  I  suspected  that  the  wash- 
stand  with  its  insufficient  appurtenances  was  a  sacrifice 
to  fashion  and  that  when  the  good  man  and  his  wife 
washed  at  all  they  probably  preferred  the  warmth  of 
the  kitchen.  The  ground  floor  of  these  houses  was 
occupied  by  stables  and  the  attics  by  granaries  so  that 
when  the  son  who  was  studying  at  Tubingen  or  Heidel- 
berg came  home  on  a  visit  his  nose,  which  had  become 
'sensitive  in  the  city,  suffered  from  the  home-like  smells 
of  his  youth.  I  got  to  know  these  things  through 


142  THE  DEVIL'S  CRADLE 

making  friends  with  the  Hohenroda's  chief  forester  and 
going  to  see  his  wife  one  afternoon.  They  gave  me 
coffee  and  cake,  and  told  me  about  their  Carl  who  was 
going  to  be  a  pastor  and  how  it  worried  him  to  hear 
the  cows  lowing  just  under  his  feet  while  he  was  pur- 
suing his  studies:  and  I,  looking  through  a  wide  crack 
in  the  floor,  could  see  a  cow  and  her  calf  quite  plainly 
and  could  account  for  the  curious  thick  air  of  the  room 
and  the  compound  smell  of  peat,  milk,  hay,  rank  tobacco, 
and  clothes  worn  in  the  forest  and  on  the  farm. 

Another  day  I  went  to  see  the  pastor  and  his  wife, 
and  there,  too,  I  was  regaled  with  coffee  and  cakes,  and 
treated  as  if  I  was  a  personage  from  a  higher  sphere. 
The  pastor  was  nearly  as  unpleasant  as  Herr  Putzer, 
a  smug  conceited  man  who  preached  unctuous  sermons, 
had  an  insufferably  condescending  manner  to  his  wife 
and  all  other  women  and  was  on  edge  about  England. 
Wasn't  it  strange  to  find  a  minister  of  the  Gospel,  living 
a  sequestered  life  in  central  Europe,  bubbling  over  with 
wrath  about  a  nation  he  no  more  knew  than  I  know  the 
Red  Indians.  His  wife  was  a  mousey  woman  with 
black  hair  brushed  smooth  and  tight,  beady  black  eyes, 
an  expression  as  self-complacent  as  her  husband's,  and 
the  kind  of  black  dress  a  housekeeper  wears  on  the  stage. 
She  stared  at  my  clothes  as  if  they  were  crimes  and 
informed  me  that  she  had  a  married  sister  in  Berlin 
who  was  the  glass  of  fashion  and  that  nowadays  Berlin 
exceeded  Paris  and  Vienna  in  elegance.  London,  she 
told  me,  never  had  counted  and  never  would  count  be- 
cause English  women  had  no  taste  in  dress  and  no 
grace  and  no  figures.  It  was  a  tirade,  not  a  conversation, 
and  I  did  not  dispute  anything  she  said.  I  just  sat  there 


THE  DEVIL'S  CRADLE  143 

and  I  suppose  annoyed  her  by  existing.  It  was  a  bitter- 
cold  day  and  I  had  naturally  put  on  a  long  fur  coat,  fur 
gloves,  a  fur  hat  and  a  big  fur  muff.  They  were  new 
furs,  too,  that  Dad  had  brought  me  from  America,  and 
I  guessed  by  the  look  of  them  that  his  deals  had  been 
successful.  The  Grafin  had  been  quite  solemn  in  her 
appreciation  of  them,  but  she  had  no  envy  in  her  com- 
position and  went  out  contentedly  in  a  sealskin  worn  to 
the  bone  in  places  and  of  a  shape  that  I  should  say 
was  new  when  men  wore  side-wiskers.  Wolfram  and 
I  had  decided  that  we  would  give  her  a  new  one  for 
Christmas  and  that  it  must  be  made  for  her  in  order  to  be 
big  enough.  When  I  took  off  my  coat  at  the  Pfarrhaus, 
I  had  on  a  mole-colored  crepe  de  chine  which  Frau 
Mink  informed  me  her  sister  would  consider  correct 
in  summer  but  not  when  snow  was  on  the  ground ;  and 
Wolfram's  diamonds  were  flashing  on  my  fingers  because 
I  had  taken  off  my  sea-otter  gloves.  I  think  myself 
that  you  must  have  a  withered  soul  if  you  are  upset 
because  another  woman  happens  to  be  better  dressed 
than  you  are  yourself,  and  I  was  glad  that  Wilkins  had 
trained  me  to  accept  the  fact  that  my  possessions  were 
not  worth  mentioning  compared  to  those  she  had  been 
accustomed  to  while  with  the  Duchess  and  Lady  Sawyer. 
For  instance,  I  knew  that  the  Duchess  had  ropes  of 
pearls  as  big  as  marrowfat  peas  so  I  thought  nothing 
of  my  single  row.  It  had  not  occurred  to  me  that  Frau 
Mink  would  glare  at  it  while  we  drank  our  coffee  and 
in  the  end  ask  me  if  the  pearls  were  real.  I  had  to 
admit  that  they  were,  and  then  the  pastor  improved  the 
occasion  by  a  little  impromptu  exhortation.  He  told 
us  that  the  only  jewel  a  virtuous  wife  should  wish  to 


144  THE  DEVIL'S  CRADLE 

possess  was  the  esteem  of  her  husband  and  that  this  could 
only  be  gained  by  unceasing  self-forgetting  service.  He 
maundered  on  so  long  about  the  joy  we  ought  to  find 
in  rising  early  and  working  late  in  order  to  please 
our  men  folk  and  how  we  ought  invariably  to  submit 
to  them  and  bear  with  their  infirmities  that  even  his 
wife  got  snappish  and  said  that  the  stove  needed  re- 
plenishing and  that  she  must  interrupt  him  to  do  it :  while 
I  made  his  eyes  start  out  of  his  head  by  saying  that  if 
you  had  to  humor  a  man  as  if  he  were  a  child  you  could 
not  also  bow  down  to  him  as  if  he  were  a  god.  I  thought 
the  double  attitude  was  impossible,  but  he  said  every 
virtuous  German  woman  adopted  it  at  marriage  and 
held  it  through  life. 

"She  must  feel  tired  sometimes,"  I  argued. 

"Why  should  she  not  feel  tired?  Am  I  not  tired 
when  I  have  performed  the  day's  duties?  An  honest 
German  woman  is  not  a  butterfly." 

"But  I  wouldn't  have  a  world  without  butterflies, 
would  you?" 

"The  world  is  as  our  great  German  God  made  it," 
said  Herr  Mink.  "Butterflies  have  their  place  but  not 
on  the  hearth.  There  we  wish  to  see  a  helpmate  weav- 
ing roses." 

"How  does  one  weave  roses  and  why  does  one  do  it 
on  a  hearth  where  there  is  often  a  fire?"  I  asked.  "Be- 
sides, in  Germany  you  have  no  hearths.  You  have 
stoves." 

The  husband  and  wife  looked  scandalized  by  my  ig- 
norance and  the  pastor  there  and  then  took  down  a 
volume  of  Schiller  and  read  me  the  poem  about  women 
weaving  heavenly  roses  into  the  lives  of  men.  I  thought 


THE  DEVIL'S  CRADLE  145 

I  saw  what  he  meant.  A  German  wife  spends  a  good 
deal  of  her  time  on  the  kitchen  hearth  and  the  roses 
she  weaves  are  the  succulent  dishes  she  cooks  for  the 
delectation  of  her  husband.  But  when  I  said  this  the 
pastor  shut  the  book  with  a  snap  and  muttered  some- 
thing about  women  being  unpoetical  and  always  having 
their  thoughts  on  the  material  side  of  life. 

"If  it  were  not  so  it  would  be  uncomfortable  for  the 
men,"  said  Frau  Mink.  "Someone  must  cook  and  clean 
unless  one  is  rich  and  has  many  servants." 

She  looked  at  me  with  an  air  of  disapproval.  I  got 
up  to  go  and  began  to  put  on  my  fur  coat. 

"The  Grafin  can  cook.  She  likes  it,"  I  said.  "She 
is  making  some  wonderful  cake  to-day  that  has  nuts  and 
raisins  in  it  and  all  kinds  of  spices." 

"Have  you  then  no  desire  to  learn  ?  Did  you  not  wish 
to  stay  at  home  and  watch  her  and  perhaps  assist?" 

I  said,  "Not  much,"  in  polite  German  and  bade  good- 
bye, but  I  had  the  impression  that  they  were  both  over- 
flowing with  sympathy  for  the  Grafin  because  she  had 
such  a  frivolous  and  useless  daughter-in-law. 

"She  is  a  very  tolerant  woman,"  one  of  them  said 
with  a  moan. 


XXVII 

THE  school   examination  that  Max  dreaded   took 
place  before  Christmas  and  he  failed  in  it.     I 
cannot  tell  you  much  more  about  it  because  I 
was  told  so  little  myself  and  I  could  not  question  Max. 
As  for  the  others  they  all  blamed  the  boy  for  qualities 


146  THE  DEVIL'S  CRADLE 

of  mind  he  had  inherited  and  for  a  state  of  mind  and 
body  that  a  little  sense  would  have  prevented.  I  know 
he  did  not  sleep  for  nights  beforehand  and  that  by  the 
time  his  ordeal  was  at  hand  his  brain  lacked  the  fresh- 
ness and  power  of  concentration  needed  to  make  the 
most  of  such  knowledge  as  he  possessed.  Whether  he 
was  on  the  border  line  or  hopelessly  below  the  required 
standard  I  never  knew  and  I  certainly  did  not  care.  It 
is  impossible  to  tell  you  how  little  I  cared.  The  boy 
had  told  me  that  in  class  he  had  found  himself  forgetting 
easy  things  he  knew  quite  well:  and  that  his  head  ached 
so  badly  that  he  felt  sick  and  unable  to  eat.  For  some 
time  before  the  end  of  term  we  all  seemed  to  be  in 
suspense  and  no  one  talked  about  Christmas,  which  was 
nearly  upon  us. 

We  were  having  tea  in  the  Grafin's  sitting-room  when 
Max  returned  from  school  with  the  report  that  meant 
so  much  to  them  all.  The  half  hour  before  he  appeared 
had  been  dreadful.  It  reminded  me  of  the  time  when 
I  waited  with  Dad  while  a  great  consulting  surgeon  met 
our  own  doctor  and  looked  at  Mother  and  decided  that 
she  could  not  live.  Dad  and  I  had  hardly  spoken  to  each 
other  and  I  stared  out  of  the  window  and  watched  people 
go  about  as  usual  and  thought  it  strange.  If  it  had 
been  a  question  of  life  or  death  Wolfram  could  hardly 
have  been  more  worried;  and  his  mother's  hands 
trembled  as  she  poured  out  tea;  and  the  Graf  brooded 
gloomily.  Herr  Putzer  had  gone  in  the  car  to  fetch  Max 
from  school  and  the  moment  they  came  in  together  we 
knew  that  the  worst  had  happened.  Max  looked  as  I 
imagine  people  must  have  looked  in  those  tumbrils  that 
took  victims  to  the  guillotine.  He  did  not  speak,  but 


THE  DEVIL'S  CRADLE  147 

shook  hands  with  us  as  German  boys  do  when  they 
come  back  from  school  and  then  handed  his  father  the 
report.  Wolfram  opened  it. 

"Max  has  failed,"  he  said.     "Durchgef alien!" 

The  Graf  snatched  the  paper  from  his  son's  hands  and 
stared  at  it.  The  Grafin  began  to  cry,  not  noisily  but 
as  if  her  affliction  was  more  than  she  could  bear.  Herr 
Putzer  buried  his  head  in  his  hands  and  groaned.  I 
went  up  to  Max  and  put  my  arm  round  him. 

"Does  it  mean  you  won't  get  your  promotion?"  I 
asked. 

He  nodded,  but  did  not  lift  his  eyes  from  the  floor.  He 
seemed  overcome  with  shame  just  as  he  might  have 
been  if  he  had  done  something  infamous  and  had  been 
discovered. 

Herr  Putzer  raised  his  head  from  his  arms  and  began 
to  defend  himself:  for  he  took  Max's  failure  as  a  re- 
flection on  his  capacity  as  a  teacher  and  felt  it  keenly. 
Being  the  kind  of  man  he  was,  he  was  naturally  occupied 
with  his  own  discomfiture  and  not  with  the  effect  on 
his  pupil. 

"I  have  striven,"  he  said,  "I  have  done  my  duty.  The 
shame  is  not  mine." 

"No  one  blames  you,  Putzer,"  said  Wolfram.  "You 
have  done  your  best." 

"Untiring  have  I  been.  Ohne  Rast,  ohne  Ruh!  That 
I  must  say  for  myself." 

"What  is  to  be  done?"  exclaimed  Wolfram  hopelessly. 

"Every  day  I  have  exhorted  him.  Every  day  I  have 
reminded  him  of  all  this  hour  would  mean:  of  the  dis- 
appointment, the  disgrace,  the  scandal  .  .  .  there  he 
stands  and  can  look  none  of  us  in  the  face  ...  so 


148  THE  DEVIL'S  CRADLE 

he  must  go  through  life  .  .  .  while  we  who  are  inno- 
cent suffer  also." 

"Better  he  had  never  been  born,"  said  the  Graf, 
speaking  for  the  first  time.  "Better  to  be  dead  than 
to  bring  disgrace  upon  the  name  of  one's  fathers." 

He  looked  at  me  as  he  said  this  and  I  looked  at  him 
and  we  understood  each  other.  He  was  not  ashamed 
of  his  sentiments  and  I  thought  him  callous  and  brutal 
and  wished  him  to  know  that  I  thought  so.  His  outburst 
had  so  shocked  and  startled  me  that  I  had  taken  a  step 
towards  him  with  some  idea  of  upbraiding  him;  for  by 
this  time  my  anger  had  reached  boiling-point  and  when 
you  are  angry  you  do  not  fear  people  even  if  they  are 
bullies  and  twice  your  weight.  As  I  moved  I  took  my 
arm  from  Max's  shoulder  and  I  saw  him  look  at  his 
father,  hoping  against  hope  I  now  believe,  for  some  sign 
of  forgiveness  and  encouragement.  But  Wolfram  sat 
there  the  image  of  stern  disappointment  and  displeasure, 
his  hard  profile  towards  us  and  his  eyes  turned  away. 
His  father's  misery  seemed  to  overwhelm  the  boy  and 
with  an  ashen  pallor  in  his  face  that  came  there  like  a 
seizure  he  stumbled  towards  the  door.  My  first  impulse 
was  to  follow  him  and  then  before  I  went  I  spoke:  but 
not  till  he  had  closed  the  door  behind  him. 

"For  shame!"  I  said  to  the  Graf,  and  I  dare  say  I 
spoke  like  a  fury  for  I  felt  like  one.  I  know  I  clenched 
my  hands  and  I  only  do  that  when  I'm  in  such  a  passion 
that  I  hardly  know  what  I'm  doing.  But  he  only  scowled 
and  looked  at  me  as  a  large  fierce  boar  might  look  at 
an  indignant  butterfly.  One  gobble,  he  seemed  to  say, 
and  where  would  the  butterfly  be? 


THE  DEVIL'S  CRADLE  149 

"I'm  going  after  him,"  I  said.  "I'm  going  to  tell  him 
he  is  not  to  blame." 

"When  a  boy  has  not  the  energy  and  the  ambition 
necessary  in  the  young  .  .  ."  droned  Herr  Putzer. 

I  could  have  slain  the  man. 

"The  boy  has  been  overworked,"  I  said,  turning  on 
him,  "steadily  and  brutally  overworked.  There  is  no 
sense  in  it." 

The  Grafin  held  her  breath  and  looked  at  me.  The 
three  men  looked  at  each  other  and  their  look  was  as 
much  as  to  say,  "She  is  crazy." 

"Therefore  you  are  to  blame,"  I  went  on.  "You  and 
his  father  and  grandfather  and  your  precious  German 
State  that  oppresses  children  and  destroys  them." 

"The  gracious  lady  raves,"  said  the  Graf.  When  he 
disliked  me  more  than  usual  and  wished  to  be  sarcastic 
he  would  call  me  die  gnadige,  which  means  the  gracious 
lady.  "A  State  that  requires  men  to  defend  it  from  a 
host  of  envious  enemies  does  not  destroy  men  children. 
If  she  cannot  talk  more  sensibly  than  that  it  would  be 
well  if  she  did  not  talk  at  all." 

"I  have  still  to  learn  that  an  English  lady  is  an 
authority  on  education,"  said  Herr  Putzer.  "No  one  can 
understand  what  does  not  exist  and  one  may  say  that 
what  we  Germans  understand  as  education  does  not  exist 
in  England." 

"Max  is  being  killed  by  overwork,"  I  said  steadily. 
"He  has  not  failed  because  he  is  idle  or  stupid,  but  be- 
cause he  is  ill." 

"You  give  your  opinion  too  freely,"  said  the  Graf. 

"Certainly,"  said  the  Grafin.  "What  can  Karen  know 
of  German  school  life  and  the  demands  it  makes?" 


ISO  THE  DEVIL'S  CRADLE 

"Nothing,"  said  Heir  Putzer,  spreading  out  his  hands, 
palm  downwards.  "Nothing  at  all  can  the  Frau  Grafin 
know." 

"I'm  going  to  find  Max,"  I  said,  and  as  I  went  I  looked 
at  Wolfram,  hoping  that  he  would  come  with  me.  Thank 
God,  he  did. 

"The  boy's  heart  is  broken,"  I  said  as  we  hurried 
along.  "We've  got  to  mend  it  somehow." 

"But,  Karen,  you've  no  conception  of  the  trouble  such 
a  failure  brings  on  us  all.  My  friends  will  pity  me,  my 
enemies  will  rejoice.  That  little  worthless  Hohenroda 
boy  is  durchgefallen  again,  they  will  say.  He  will  come 
to  no  good  in  the  world." 

"They  say!  Let  them  say!  What  do  they  matter? 
No  one  matters  to  us  just  now  except  Max." 

"He  will  have  to  work  harder  than  ever." 

"Then  he  will  have  a  breakdown  and  not  work  at  all." 

"You  exaggerate." 

We  got  to  the  school-room  wing  as  Wolfram  spoke  and 
at  first  our  voices  and  our  footsteps  were  the  only  sound 
we  heard.  But  as  we  reached  the  door  of  Max's  bed- 
room we  both  heard  something  else  that  struck  at  our 
hearts.  To  my  dying  day  I  shall  remember  that  moment, 
the  sickening  fear  and  the  interval  before  we  reached 
the  handle  and  turned  it.  My  knees  seemed  to  give 
under  me  though  I  rushed  forward :  but  Wolfram 
was  quicker  than  I.  The  horrible  choking  gasps  had 
hardly  startled  us  when  he  fled  past  me  and  was  inside 
the  room  and  supporting  the  writhing  figure  of  his  son. 
He  shouted  to  me  to  go  away,  but  I  did  not.  I  could 
not,  for  he  needed  help.  The  moment  was  too  awful 
to  feel  in  my  marrow  as  I  felt  it  later.  You  don't  think 


THE  DEVIL'S  CRADLE  151 

or  shudder  when  you  are  flung  into  tragedy,  because 
you  have  to  act.  One  moment  I  stood  in  the  corridor, 
ordinarily  anxious  and  angry:  the  next  moment  I  was 
helping  Wolfram  to  cut  down  the  body  of  his  son.  Max 
had  hanged  himself.  There  was  a  hook  in  the  ceiling 
from  which  a  lamp  had  been  suspended  when  lamps 
were  used  in  the  castle;  and  it  had  been  put  in  with 
German  thoroughness:  for  the  boy's  weight  was  not  too 
much  for  it  and  if  he  had  hung  there  a  minute  longer 
he  would  have  been  stone  dead. 


XXVIII 

IN  a  moment  Wolfram  had  jumped  on  the  chair  by 
which  Max  must  have  reached  the  hook  and  had 
taken  his  son  down.  I  had  seen  a  pair  of  scissors 
on  the  toilet-table  and  we  cut  through  the  silk  handker- 
chief that  was  strangling  the  boy.  It  was  a  big  one 
that  he  wore  as  a  muffler  and  he  had  made  a  noose  of 
it.  We  neither  of  us  had  any  medical  knowledge  and 
till  we  could  get  a  doctor  we  had  to  do  as  best  we  could. 
At  first  we  both  thought  Max  would  die.  He  was  quite 
unconscious  and  his  face  looked  dreadful.  The  veins 
stood  out  on  his  forehead  and  there  were  signs  of  suffo- 
cation in  his  color  and  his  staring  eyes.  After  a  time 
they  closed  and  he  lay  there  inert  and  breathing  with 
difficulty.  I  fetched  another  pillow  and  a  hot-water 
bottle  for  his  feet  and  when  I  got  back  to  the  room 
with  these  things  I  found  Wolfram  sitting  by  his  son, 
watching  him  anxiously.  We  hardly  dared  look  at  each 
other,  for  we  should  have  broken  down. 


152  THE  DEVIL'S  CRADLE 

"I  have  'phoned  for  Dr.  Marwitz,"  I  said,  and  then 
I,  too,  sat  down,  but  not  for  long.  I  felt  restless  and 
furiously  angry.  To  see  that  highly  strung,  delicate  boy 
lying  there  between  life  and  death  and  to  dwell  on  what 
he  must  have  suffered  when  he  ran  up  here  this  morning 
resolved  to  die,  to  imagine  his  despair  and  picture  the 
deliberation  of  his  deed,  roused  me  to  just  the  white 
heat  of  anger  that  since  then  German  cruelty  has  roused 
in  all  men  and  women  who  have  any  heart  or  any  un- 
derstanding for  pain  they  do  not  feel  themselves. 

"Stay  here  with  Max/'  I  said  to  Wolfram.  "I  am 
going  to  tell  them." 

He  looked  at  me  and  his  look  gave  himself  and  his 
boy  into  my  hands. 

"I  may  speak  for  you?"  I  said. 

He  sighed. 

"Putzer  must  go,"  I  told  him. 

"Must  he?    Can't  we  regulate  things?" 

"No.    Max  hates  him.     He  is  a  pedant  and  a  bully." 

Wolfram  looked  quite  broken  down  and  turned  to  his 
son  again  as  if  he  did  not  care  what  happened  outside 
this  room  and  he  told  me  later  that  that  was  how  he  had 
felt.  He  put  his  affairs  in  my  hands  for  the  time  being 
and  only  asked  to  be  left  in  peace.  I  suppose  we  had 
been  away  about  half  an  hour  when  I  returned  to  the 
Grafin's  sitting-room  and  found  her  still  there  with  the 
two  men  and  still  looking  afflicted  by  Max's  defeat. 
They  were  all  so  self -centered  in  their  different  ways 
that  they  did  not  see  as  I  came  into  the  room  that  I 
had  passed  through  a  furnace  and  come  out  of  it  white 
hot  and  ready  to  consume  them.  They  were  not  over- 
pleased  to  see  me  and  showed  it  by  an  exchange  of 


THE  DEVIL'S  CRADLE  153 

glances  and  a  sudden  silence.  The  Graf  and  Grafin  were 
on  the  sofa  and  Herr  Putzer  was  on  a  straight-backed 
chair.  He  never  took  an  easy  chair  in  the  presence  of 
his  employers  unless  specially  invited.  I  took  one  near 
the  window  and  I  did  not  speak  at  once.  I  wanted  to 
hurt  them  because  they  deserved  to  be  hurt  and  I  won- 
dered how  I  could  do  it  effectively. 

"You  look  very  pale,"  said  the  Grafin,  beginning,  I 
suppose,  to  suspect  that  something  was  wrong.  "Does 
it  go  well  with  you?" 

"It  goes  well  with  me,"  I  said. 

"Where  is  Wolfram?" 

"He  is  upstairs." 

"We  require  his  presence,"  said  the  Graf.  "He  is  the 
boy's  father." 

"Yes,"  I  said,  "he  is  the  boy's  father." 

"Therefore  he  must  give  his  consent  to  the  arrange- 
ment we  are  now  making,  by  the  advice  of  our  honored 
Herr  Putzer." 

Herr  Putzer  bowed. 

"Have  you  been  making  arrangements  ?"  I  asked. 

"Yes.  We  intend  to  send  Max  to  our  little  Jagdschloss 
for  the  holidays  to  mark  our  displeasure  with  him.  Herr 
Putzer  is  good  enough  to  say  that  he  will  accompany 
him  there  and  superintend  his  studies.  There  will  be 
no  distractions  and  no  untoward  influences.  ..." 

"Am  I  an  untoward  influence?" 

"Decidedly,"  said  Herr  Putzer. 

"Max  will  not  go  to  the  Jagdschloss,"  I  said. 

There  was  a  moment  of  petrified  surprise.  That  I 
should  dare  to  contradict  them  and  dispute  their  plans 
was  incredible.  They  could  hardly  believe  their  ears. 


154  THE  DEVIL'S  CRADLE 

"Our  grandson  ..."  began  the  Graf. 

"My  stepson,"  I  interrupted. 

"Our  grandson  will  go  where  we  send  him." 

"If  I  had  not  gone  after  Max  as  quickly  as  I  did  .  .  ." 

"It  would  have  pleased  us  better  if  you  had  not  gone," 
said  the  Grafin. 

"It  was  uncalled  for,"  said  the  Graf.  "Where  Max 
is  concerned  you  have  nothing  to  say.  Nothing  at  all." 

"The  Grafin  Wolfram  is  too  impulsive,"  said  Herr 
Putzer.  "Education  is  not  a  field  for  sentiment  and 
impulse.  If  you  allow  such  motives  to  weaken  your 
will-power  you  cannot  produce  Germans  of  the  highest 
type  such  as  we  turn  out  of  our  schools  year  after 
year." 

I  let  them  all  finish  and  then  I  began  again. 

"If  I  had  not  gone  after  Max  he  would  now  be 
dead." 

They  looked  incredulous,  and  the  Graf  muttered  some- 
thing about  hysterics  and  exaggeration. 

"He  had  hanged  himself." 

"No!    No!" 

"From  a  hook  in  his  room." 

That  did  upset  them.  The  Grafin  who  had  screamed 
a  shrill  denial  began  to  weep  again  and  all  three  invoked 
their  deities  in  a  scared  way. 

"We  cut  him  down,"  I  went  on,  for  I  was  in  no  mood 
to  spare  them.  "A  moment  later  he  would  have  been 
strangled.  He  did  it  with  that  big  white  silk  muffler 
he  has  been  wearing  to  school.  When  we  found  him 
he  was  choking  and  black  in  the  face  ..." 

The  Grafin  put  out  her  hands  to  stop  me,  but  I  would 


THE  DEVIL'S  CRADLE  155 

not  be  stopped.  I  wanted  them  to  hear  what  I  had  heard 
and  to  see  what  I  had  seen. 

"He  may  stili  die,"  I  told  them.  "He  is  unconscious 
and  he  breathes  heavily." 

"A  doctor  ..." 

"A  doctor  is  on  his  way." 

"There  was  no  reason,"  said  the  Graf  uneasily. 

"I  only  did  my  duty,"  said  Herr  Putzer. 

"No  one  blames  you,"  said  the  Graf. 

Then  I  spoke  out  and  said  what  I  thought  again.  I 
told  them  they  were  all  to  blame  and  Wolfram  more 
than  anyone  else  because  he  was  the  boy's  father  and 
ought  to  have  interfered.  I  also  said  plainly  that  Wolfram 
and  I  wished  to  relieve  Herr  Putzer  of  his  duties  whether 
Max  lived  or  died.  It  was  an  unpleasant  thing  to  say, 
but  it  had  to  be  done  and  I  thought  I  might  as  well  get 
it  over. 

"Did  you  engage  Herr  Putzer?"  thundered  the  Graf. 

"No,  indeed." 

"Then  you  cannot  dismiss  him.  Who  engages  also 
dismisses." 

"If  I  am  not  wanted  I  shall  go,"  said  Herr  Putzer, 
very  angry  and  very  huffy.  "To-day  rather  than  to- 
morrow. I  have  my  pride." 

"I  wish  to  see  the  boy,"  said  the  Grafin,  stumbling  to 
her  feet,  and  I  felt  sorry  for  her  and  offered  her  my 
arm  as  she  went  towards  the  door. 

"I,  too,  would  see  him,"  said  the  Graf  and  came  with 
us. 

Herr  Putzer  clawed  at  his  straggly  beard  and  [watched 
us  sulkily. 


156  THE  DEVIL'S  CRADLE 

"It  appears  that  I  am  not  wanted,"  he  said,  and  as 
he  addressed  no  one  in  particular  no  one  answered  him. 


XXIX 

MAX  did  not  die,  but  he  had  a  long  illness.  He 
was  all  to  pieces,  the  doctor  said.  Nerves 
shattered,  lungs  wrong,  heart  wrong.  No 
question  of  school  for  months  to  come.  The  Hohenrodas, 
who  never  had  anything  the  matter  with  them,  went  about 
with  faces  as  long  as  kites  and  worried  about  the  boy's 
future.  Luckily,  Dr.  Marwitz  was  a  man  who  knew  his 
business  and  was  an  autocrat  into  the  bargain.  He  ex- 
plained to  them  that  the  boy  would  have  no  future  unless 
they  understood  that  he  had  been  nearly  killed  by  their 
folly  in  the  past.  If  he  didn't  lose  his  life  he  would 
lose  his  reason  next  time.  But  there  should  be  no  next 
time.  Wolfram  and  I  were  determined  about  that  and 
the  Grafin  came  tearfully  to  our  side.  And  I  was  de- 
termined that  Herr  Putzer  should  go;  for  I  knew  how 
Max  dreaded  and  disliked  him.  There  was  a  personal 
repulsiveness  about  the  man  that  I  felt  and  understood 
that  Max  felt,  too.  The  fetid  air  he  breathed,  his  ear- 
aches, the  click  of  his  teeth,  his  way  of  eating  and  snif- 
fing as  he  ate,  all  got  on  our  nerves.  You  would  have 
thought  that  after  what  had  happened  he  would  have 
taken  himself  off;  but  he  did  not  do  so  as  quickly  as 
I  could  have  wished.  The  Graf  protected  him  and  would 
have  committed  Max  to  his  care  again.  Even  before  the 
doctor  arrived  I  had  a  row  with  my  father-in-law  about 
this. 


THE  DEVIL'S  CRADLE  157 

When  I  went  back  to  the  room  where  Max  was  lying 
I  had  a  good  look  at  it  and  I  saw  that  like  the  school-room 
it  faced  north  and  was  dark  and  stuffy.    It  had  one  of 
those  depressing  brown  wallpapers  Germans  are  so  fond 
of,  a  bare  floor  and  an  iron  bedstead.     But  you  would 
have  thought  that  if  there  had  been  a  grain  of  sense 
or  sympathy  amongst  them  they  would  have  known  it 
would  do  the  boy  no  good  to  be  staring  at  that  hook 
in  the  ceiling:  with  Putzer  to  look  at  as  an  alternative. 
Anyhow,  I  asked  no  questions,  but  left  my  mother-in-law 
and  Wolfram  to  watch  Max  while  I  went  to  my  own 
quarters  and  with  Wilkins'  help  got  my  dressing-room 
ready  for  him :  a  sunny,  cheerful  room  with  a  view  of 
the  valley  and  the  hills.     We  both  worked  like  blacks, 
removing  my  clothes,  and  bringing  in  a  bedstead  and 
making  the  bed.     Mamsell  helped  us.     The  news  had 
got  about  that  the  little  Graf  was  ill,  but  no  one  outside 
the  family,  except  the  doctor,  ever  knew  what  had  hap- 
pened.   When  we  had  finished  the  room  was  warm  and 
gay  and  comfortable.    The  rose-colored  carpet  had  been 
a  wedding-present  and  Wilkins  had  made  me  curtains 
and  covers  of  a  flowery  cretonne  that  went  with  it.     I 
put  a  silk  eider-down  on  the  bed  instead  of  a  plumeau 
and  I  brought  in  some  chrysanthemums  that  Wolfram 
had  given  me  the  day  before.     Then  I  went  back  and 
told  Wolfram  what  I   had  done,  and  said  that  if  he 
would  carry  Max  in,  Wilkins  and  I  would  undress  him 
and  put  him  to  bed.     Wilkins  was  an  excellent  nurse 
because  the  Duchess  had  been  an  invalid  and  a  termagant 
and  had  put  her  through  the  mill  for  three  years.     She 
had  nursed  my  mother  in  her  last  illness  and  I  liked  her 
about    when   anything   ailed    me.      But    the   Graf    and 


158  THE  DEVIL'S  CRADLE 

Grafin  did  not  know  all  this  and  when  I  proposed  to 
take  Max  out  of  his  own  room  they  looked  offended  and 
annoyed.  No  doubt  they  thought  me  officious  because 
ithey  had  never  recognized  that  I  had  an  interest  in  Max 
or  any  right  to  a  concern  in  his  affairs. 

"The  boy  stays  here,"  said  the  Graf. 

"Why  should  he?" 

"Because  he  belongs  here.    This  is  his  room." 

"Karen  wishes  to  have  him  close  by,"  said  Wolfram. 
"If  he  is  ill  ..." 

"Why  should  he  be  ill  ?  There  was  nothing  the  matter 
with  him  this  morning.  A  man  who  tries  to  shoot  him- 
self and  misses  is  not  ill." 

"Can't  you  see?"  I  cried. 

"He  is  ill,"  said  the  Grafin,  who  sat  beside  her  grand- 
son and  watched  him  intently.  She  looked  very  sad 
and  very  anxious. 

"Is  that  a  reason  for  dragging  him  out  of  bed  and 
putting  him  into  a  strange  room?  Here  he  feels  at 
home  and  with  Putzer  next  door  ..." 

"Wolfram,  if  you  leave  your  boy  in  this  miserable 
room  with  that  hateful  man  near  him  I'll  never  forgive 
you,"  I  said  to  my  husband.  "Your  father  knows 
nothing  whatever  about  children  or  about  illness." 

"How !"  bellowed  the  Graf. 

"None  of  you  know  anything.  Is  this  a  room  for  a 
delicate  nervous  boy?  It's  a  prison  cell.  Look  at  the 
windows  high  up  in  the  wall  so  that  he  can't  see  out. 
Look  at  the  walls.  It's  bitter  cold,  too.  And  now  you 
want  him  to  lie  there  staring  at  that  hook.  A  set  of 
sheep  would  have  more  understanding." 

You  must  please  believe  that  I  had  not  been  brought 


THE  DEVIL'S  CRADLE  159 

up  to  rage  at  people  in  that  way  and  in  England  I  had 
never  wished  to  do  it.  But  the  Graf  made  me  think 
that  I  knew  what  David  felt  like  when  he  saw  Goliath. 
The  giant  had  his  club,  but  the  boy  had  stones  and  knew 
how  to  sling  them.  My  father-in-law  expected  every- 
one to  be  afraid  of  him  and  I  was  not  afraid:  but  he 
would  have  thought  I  was  if  I  had  given  in.  Besides, 
for  Max's  sake  I  could  not. 

"Woman,  hold  your  mouth,"  the  Graf  shouted  at  me 
in  German,  so  you  see  his  manner  of  speech  was  not 
refined;  and  he  took  a  step  towards  me. 

"Make  not  so  much  noise,"  said  the  Grafin  reprov- 
ingly. "You  will  disturb  the  boy.  This  room  is  cer- 
tainly dark  and  sad  and  Herr  Putzer  is  not  used  to 
the  care  of  one  sick;  but  in  Karen's  dressing-room  there 
is  no  bed." 

"There  is,"  I  said.  "Wilkins  and  I  have  carried  one 
in.  Come  and  see." 

The  Grafin  got  up  and  came  with  me  and  when  she 
saw  the  room  we  had  prepared  for  Max  she  nodded 
in  a  relieved  way  and  said  I  had  done  well.  But  she 
added  that  she  would  not  venture  to  move  the  boy  with- 
out the  doctor's  permission  even  if  her  husband  con- 
sented to  his  removal. 

"I'll  take  the  responsibility,"  I  said,  and  when  we 
went  back  I  asked  Wolfram  to  carry  Max  to  his  new 
quarters. 

"Am  I  the  master  of  this  house  or  am  I  not?"  said 
the  Graf  in  his  most  formidable  manner.  He  made  me 
tired. 

"Come  on,  Wolfram,"  I  said;  but  Wolfram  had  to 
make  a  little  speech  before  he  defied  his  father. 


160  THE  DEVIL'S  CRADLE 

"I  am  not  forgetful  of  all  you  have  done  for  Max," 
he  said,  "and  I  shall  not  let  him  forget  it  either." 

"They  have  done  for  him  nearly,"  I  said  in  an  un- 
dertone. "We  are  not  likely  to  forget  it." 

At  that  moment  Herr  Putzer  came  in,  treading 
gingerly  and  looking  afraid.  When  he  saw  the  re- 
cumbent figure  of  Max  still  lying  helpless  on  the  bed, 
still  unconscious  and  breathing  heavily,  he  turned  paler 
than  before  and  was  about  to  back  out  of  the  room 
again.  The  Graf,  however,  recalled  him. 

"Putzer,"  he  said,  "my  confidence  in  you  is  unshake- 
able.  No  intrigues,  no  foreign  intriguante,  shall  shake 
it.  With  our  good  doctor's  help  you  will  watch  over 
my  grandson  and  doubtless  in  a  few  days  he  will  be 
restored  to  health." 

The  Grafin  shook  her  head  sadly.  She  had  more 
sense  than  her  husband  and  was  more  kindly  inclined : 
but  she  never  stood  up  to  him.  Herr  Putzer  remained 
close  to  the  door,  neither  in  the  room  nor  out  of  it. 

"What  is  the  man  doing?"  exclaimed  the  Graf.  "I'm 
telling  you,  Putzer,  that  my  grandson  will  remain  under 
your  care." 

"He  will  not,"  said  Wolfram.  So  far  he  had  hardly 
spoken,  but  now  he  spoke  decisively.  "Max  will  not  be 
under  Herr  Putzer  again.  I  shall  make  different  ar- 
rangements." 

The  Graf  glared  at  us  both  and  gobbled  and  finally 
did  not  speak.  I  understood  his  look  at  Wolfram  and 
then  his  look  at  me.  Wolfram  had  been  more  or  less 
dependent  on  his  father  financially  till  his  second  mar- 
riage, for  his  first  wife  had  only  brought  about  a  hundred 
a  year  to  the  exchequer.  But  Dad  had  given  me  an 


THE  DEVIL'S  CRADLE  161 

income  that  would  have  made  us  comfortable  in  England 
and  was  wealth  in  Germany.  We  could  leave  Hohen- 
roda  to-morrow  if  we  wished  and  live  independently. 
However,  Herr  Putzer  unexpectedly  came  to  our  as- 
sistance. 

"I  am  not  used  to  illness,"  he  said  with  a  shudder. 
"The  normal  I  can  deal  with,  but  illness  and  insanity 
are  not  normal.  A  boy  who  acts  as  Max  has  is  not 
sane." 

"You  are  afraid!"  exclaimed  the  Graf. 

I  had  seen  in  a  moment  that  the  man  was  afraid.  His 
function  had  been  to  destroy  Max,  not  to  rescue  him, 
and  when  he  saw  his  work  nearly  accomplished  he 
trembled  and  ran  away. 

"The  boy  requires  medical  care  and  the  service  of 
women,"  he  stuttered.  "In  a  sick-room  women  are  in 
place." 

"We  waste  time,"  said  Wolfram  sternly,  and  without 
looking  at  his  father  or  at  Herr  Putzer  again  he  took 
his  son  tenderly  into  his  arms  and  carried  him  to  our 
wing.  There  we  found  Wilkins  waiting  for  us  and  be- 
fore the  doctor  arrived  we  had  undressed  the  boy  and 
put  him  comfortably  to  bed. 


XXX 

I   HAD  looked  forward  to  a  German  Christmas,  but 
when  Christmas  came  Max  was  still  dangerously 
ill  and   none   of  us  were  inclined   for   festivities. 
By  that  time  Herr  Putzer  had  departed.    Baron  Osthofen, 
one  of  Wolfram's  cousins,  had  engaged  him  for  his  sons, 


162  THE  DEVIL'S  CRADLE 

two  bull-necked  lusty  boys  who  did  not  look  as  if  they 
could  be  overworked  or  intimidated.  The  Osthofens 
lived  in  a  villa  just  outside  Reichenstadt  and  they  thought 
a  great  deal  of  themselves.  I  did  not  like  them  because 
their  arrogance  was  like  a  London  fog,  not  to  be 
matched  anywhere  for  impenetrability  and  disagreeable- 
ness:  and  they  disliked  me  because  I  was  English  and 
did  not  fully  understand  the  place  of  Osthofens  in  the 
universe.  I  thought  that  Herr  Putzer  would  suit  them 
very  well  and  he  evidently  did:  for  whenever  we  met 
they  sang  his  praises.  I  knew  well  enough  that  he  had 
not  sung  mine  to  them.  In  fact,  they  let  me  know  it 
by  observing  that  they  had  dismissed  their  English 
nursery  governess  because  Herr  Putzer  considered  that 
anyone  English  or  American  had  a  disintegrating  in- 
fluence in  a  German  family  and  invariably  upset  the 
perfection  of  its  discipline  and  balance.  However,  in 
those  days  I  did  not  expect  ever  to  be  much  mixed  up 
with  the  Osthofens  and  I  never  gave  them  a  thought 
except  when  I  was  in  their  company  and  wished  myself 
elsewhere. 

Just  before  Christmas  Wolfram  and  I  went  into 
Reichenstadt  to  buy  presents  for  various  people,  so  I 
saw  the  crowded  shops,  the  Christmas  fairs  in  the 
market-place  and  the  rows  and  rows  of  Christmas  trees 
in  any  of  the  open  places  where  there  was  room  for 
them.  But  we  were  both  too  heavy-hearted  to  enjoy 
ourselves  as  we  might  have  done  if  Max  had  only  turned 
the  corner.  We  bought  him  presents,  but  we  knew  that 
it  was  uncertain  whether  he  would  live  to  see  them. 
By  that  time  I  had  had  an  English  nurse  sent  out  who 
took  the  night  work  while  Wilkins  and  I  divided  the 


THE  DEVIL'S  CRADLE  163 

day.  It  must  have  been  trying  for  the  Graf  and  Grafin 
to  have  no  less  than  three  Englishwomen  in  their  Ger- 
man home:  but  they  were  really  very  good  about  it. 
When  Herr  Putzer  left  he  seemed  to  take  a  hostile 
miasma  with  him  and  though  the  Graf  still  looked  like 
an  ogre  in  a  fairy  tale  he  had  quieted  down  wonder- 
fully. The  efficient  way  in  which  Max  was  nursed 
pleased  the  doctor  and  his  praises  impressed  the  Graf 
and  Grafin.  It  did  upset  them  a  good  deal  at  first  to 
see  Max  have  inflammation  of  the  lungs  with  the  win- 
dows open  in  winter  weather,  but  they  got  used  to  it. 
They  sat  in  rooms  from  which  every  breath  of  fresh 
air  was  excluded  and  the  heat  and  staleness  of  the  fumes 
they  breathed  used  to  turn  me  faint.  But  it  seemed  to 
suit  them.  They  never  ailed  anything  and  never  lost 
their*  appetites  all  through  those  anxious  weeks  and 
when  they  saw  me  getting  rather  worn  their  one  idea 
was  to  give  me  more  food  and  more  wine.  I  told  them 
I  wanted  less  than  usual  because  I  was  taking  less  ex- 
ercise, but  they  did  not  believe  me. 

When  Wolfram  and  I  went  to  Reichenstadt  for  our 
Christmas  shopping  we  had  to  make  a  day  of  it  because 
there  was  so  much  to  do.  I  had  sent  to  England  for 
a  great  many  things,  but  still  our  list  was  a  long  one. 
You  see.  that  although  Max  was  ill  and  there  were  no 
children  in  the  house  there  had  to  be  a  tree  and  though 
a  German  tree  is  not  usually  as  loaded  as  an  English 
one  you  want  little  sweets  and  toys  for  it  that  it  takes 
time  to  choose.  The  Grafin  would  not  go  out  in  the 
snow  herself  because  she  said  that  the  Schneeluft  gave 
her  sciatica.  Wolfram  was  as  hurried  and  impatient 
over  the  shopping  as  other  men,  but  to  go  into  a  Reichen- 


164  THE  DEVIL'S  CRADLE 

stadt  shop  with  him  was  like  going  with  a  royalty.  We 
were  served,  whoever  else  had  to  wait,  and  I  felt  quite 
embarrassed  sometimes  by  the  obsequious  civility  shown 
us  everywhere.  Wolfram  took  it  for  granted  and  on 
occasion  gave  himself  airs.  At  least  it  seemed  so  to 
me  when  we  went  into  the  Krokodil  for  lunch,  found 
it  crowded  and  allowed  two  luckless  civilians  to  give 
up  their  table  to  us.  However,  one  of  them  was  Herr 
Oscar  Strauss  and  I,  forgetting  the  German  social  law 
which  forbids  that  inferior  creature  a  woman  to  speak 
to  a  man  till  she  is  spoken  to,  held  out  my  hand  to 
him,  asked  him  if  he  remembered  me  and  presented  him 
to  Wolfram.  Apparently  our  notice  conferred  such 
honor  on  him  that  the  head  waiter  came  up  at  once  and 
said  he  would  find  room  for  the  gentlemen  at  a  neigh- 
boring table:  and  Herr  Strauss  himself  beamed  all  over 
his  face  and  asked  me  whether  I  ever  sang  about  Chip, 
Chip  my  little  horse  now,  and  how  I  liked  living  in 
Germany  and  whether  I  had  seen  the  von  Gosens  lately. 
I  said  that  I  had  not  seen  them  lately  because  we  had 
illness  in  the  house  and  then,  observing  that  Wolfram 
and  the  head  waiter  were  both  lying  in  wait  for  me 
with  the  Speisekarte,  I  parted  from  Herr  Strauss  and 
sat  down. 

The  room  was  heated  to  a  degree  we  never  heat  rooms 
in  England,  and  I  had  taken  off  my  long  fur  coat. 
Underneath  it  I  was  wearing  a  thin  ninon  blouse  to 
match  my  coat  and  skirt  which  were  of  a  shade  you 
see  in  some  modern  roses  but  not  in  many  materials. 
You  know,  the  kind  of  rose  that  seems  to  have  sunset 
colors  on  it  and  you  hardly  know  whether  to  call  it 
pink,  orange,  copper  or  yellow.  The  result  in  cloth  was 


THE  DEVIL'S  CRADLE  165 

rather  veiled  and  quiet  but  very  uncommon.  Dad  had 
sent  it  me  from  Paris  the  week  before,  to  cheer  me 
up,  he  said,  and  Wilkins  found  it  hardly  needed  a  stitch. 
It  went  well  with  Wolfram's  gray-blue  uniform:  but  I 
should  not  have  worn  it  if  I  had  known  that  everyone 
in  the  restaurant  would  stare  at  me  as  they  did. 

"They  would  stare  at  you  if  you  wore  gray  or  brown," 
Wolfram  said;  and  he  seemed  to  enjoy  his  lunch  and 
not  to  mind  the  staring.  But  there  was  an  awkward 
moment  when  we  got  up  to  go,  because  the  restaurant 
was  still  crowded  and  the  head  waiter  hurried  forward 
with  two  women  who  were  to  take  our  places:  and  the 
women  were  Frau  Gutheim  and  Emma.  When  they 
saw  us  they  looked  as  if  they  wanted  to  turn  tail,  but 
the  head  waiter  benignly  urged  them  on.  Hier,  meine 
Damen,  he  said  and  the  Damen  who  were  probably 
hungry  had  to  pass  us.  I  had  to  make  up  my  mind  in 
a  moment  and  without  consulting  Wolfram  who,  I  saw, 
had  his  stony  face  on  and  was  going  to  stalk  past  them 
as  if  they  were  strangers.  I  didn't  feel  like  doing  that  for 
I  had  spoken  to  both  of  them  when  I  met  them  here  before : 
so  I  held  out  my  hand  to  Frau  Gutheim,  feeling  rather  un- 
certain whether  she  would  take  it  or  make  a  scene.  For 
she  had  evidently  noticed  Wolfram's  want  of  cordiality. 
But  she  seized  my  hand,  her  whole  manner  seemed  to 
melt  and  her  voice  had  the  squashy  softness  in  it  that 
you  must  hear  to  understand  and  that  always  sounded 
insincere  to  me.  As  for  Emma  she  stared  open-mouthed 
at  Wolfram  and  heaved  a  sigh  that  touched  him  about 
as  much  as  it  would  have  touched  a  pyramid. 

"Karen!"  cried  Frau  Gutheim.  "My  dear  child,  how 
happy  it  makes  me  to  see  thee!" 


166  THE  DEVIL'S  CRADLE 

Yes !  she  said  "thee"  to  me  though  she  had  turned  me 
out  of  her  house  and  had  never  said  it  during  the  week 
that  I  was  her  guest.  I  had  only  meant  just  to  shake 
hands  civilly,  say  a  word  or  two  and  pass  on;  and  I 
did  it  partly  for  the  sake  of  Herr  Gutheim  whom  I 
had  liked  and  partly  because  I  was  bound  to  run  across 
them  sometimes  either  at  the  von  Gosens  or  in  public 
places.  But  I  was  not  prepared  to  make  friends  again, 
to  be  warmly  invited  to  the  house  and  to  be  gushed 
over  in  the  presence  of  strangers. 

"When  will  you  come  ?"  she  cooed  and  the  more  frosty 
my  replies  were  the  more  dove-like  her  wooing  of  me 
became:  and  there  is  nothing  more  uncomfortable  than 
to  be  wooed  by  a  person  whose  attentions  you  do  not 
desire. 

"I  cannot  come  at  all,"  I  said,  "there  is  illness  in  the 
house." 

"I  know.  Little  Graf  Max  .  .  .  poor  child  .  .  . 
I  will  send  him  some  grapes." 

"Thank  you  very  much :  but  he  has  grapes." 

"These  are  quite  unusual  grapes.  I  get  them  at 
Egler's." 

"We  get  our  grapes  there." 

"But  you  are  not  always  with  him.  You  have  left 
him  to-day." 

"We  had  to  do  some  Christmas  shopping." 

"Of  course;  and  shopping  is  very  exhausting.  You 
will  require  tea  or  coffee  before  you  return  home.  If 
you  and  Graf  Wolfram  would  do  us  honor  .  .  .  my 
husband  would  be  overjoyed  to  see  you  again.  ..." 

"Karen!  I  cannot  wait  any  longer,"  said  Wolfram, 
and  cutting  Frau  Gutheim  short,  I  said  hurriedly  that 


THE  DEVIL'S  CRADLE  167 

I  could  not  come  to  coffee  and  fled  from  her  presence 
with  my  husband.  He  listened  to  what  I  had  to  say 
and  told  me  that  I  need  not  feel  worried  or  uncertain 
as  it  was  a  matter  for  him  to  decide  and  he  had  decided 
it.  Nothing  would  induce  him  to  enter  the  Gutheim's 
house  or  to  allow  me  to  enter  it. 

"They  will  be  fearfully  hurt,"  I  said. 

"Let  them  be  hurt !" 

"But  I  don't  like  hurting  people." 

"You  are  not  doing  it.    I  am." 

When  Wolfram  was  in  that  mood  I  never  argued 
with  him.  I  waited  for  the  clouds  to  roll  by.  Besides, 
in  this  case,  I  was  not  profoundly  in  disagreement.  The 
Gutheims  did  not  deserve  anything  at  our  hands.  And 
sometimes  a  man  simplifies  a  difficult  situation  by  put- 
ting his  foot  down.  All  married  women  know  that  one 
of  a  husband's  duties  is  occasionally  to  play  the  part 
Mr.  Jorkins  played  to  Mr.  Spenlow. 


XXXI 

BEHOLD  Max,  Wilkins  and  me  at  Ilgesheim,  a 
German  Kurort,  doing  a  German  Kur,  under  the 
orders  of  a  German  doctor  who  would  stand 
no  nonsense  and  was  of  a  thoroughness  in  his  instruc- 
tions that  Wilkins  considered  indelicate.     But  she  ad- 
mitted that  'he  seemed  to  know  what  he  was  about  al- 
though his  eyebrows  did  tickle  her  when  he  looked  at 
her  throat  with  his  short-sighted  eyes. 

Max  was  doing  the  Kur  in  order  to  complete  his 


168  THE  DEVIL'S  CRADLE 

recovery  and  be  as  strong  as  a  lion  when  he  went  back 
to  school,  and  I  was  doing  it  because  Dr.  Marwitz  who 
had  attended  Max  at  Hohenroda  said  I  must.  German 
doctors  are  autocrats  and  no  well-conducted  German 
thinks  of  resisting  the  advice  of  the  one  in  whom  he 
puts  his  faith.  I  suppose  I  had  rather  overdone  myself, 
helping  to  look  after  Max.  At  any  rate  I  was  losing 
weight  and  looking  so  thin  that  Wolfram  took  fright. 

"She  eats  nothing,  she  drinks  nothing,"  he  said  to  his 
mother  at  dinner  one  day. 

"I  have  noticed  that  for  some  time,"  said  the  Grafin. 

"What  is  to  be  done?  Karen,  you  must  see  Dr.  Mar- 
witz to-morrow  and  do  what  he  advises." 

"Joy  and  temperance  and  repose, 
Slam  the  door  on  the  doctor's  nose,"  I  quoted. 

"Starvation  is  not  temperance,"  said  the  Graf.  "When 
there  is  food  on  the  table  it  is  folly." 

"But  I  eat  and  drink  what  I  want,"  I  argued.  "It 
cannot  be  good  to  eat  and  drink  what  one  does  not 
want." 

"A  young  woman  of  your  size  should  eat  more,"  said 
the  Grafin,  in  a  final  tone ;  and  next  day  Dr.  Marwitz, 
who  came  to  look  at  Max,  looked  at  me,  too. 

I  was  rather  glad  really  to  put  myself  in  his  capable 
hands,  for  I  knew  that  I  was  out  of  sorts,  and  when 
he  said  that  Max  and  I,  attended  by  Wilkins,  were  to 
go  to  Ilgesheim  and  take  the  baths  and  waters  there 
my  spirits  rose  sky  high  at  once.  The  winter  and  the 
spring  had  been  beautiful  at  Hohenroda:  beautiful  ex- 
ceedingly. When  the  snow  melted  and  the  young  green 


THE  DEVIL'S  CRADLE  169 

began  to  come  in  the  forest  I  thought  that  I  had  never 
seen  spring  in  its  glory  before.  One  day  Wolfram  took 
us  up  to  the  little  Jagdschloss  to  look  at  the  view  from 
there  and  for  miles  round  I  saw  forest  and  nothing  but 
forest ;  and  every  tip  of  every  branch  had  put  out  a  pale 
green  shoot  in  sign  of  spring,  and  the  sun  shone  on 
all  that  green  world  and  the  streams  dashed  foaming  over 
rocks,  full  and  hurrying  to  the  river,  and  the  larks  were 
singing  as  they  do  at  home.  The  forester  and  his  wife 
who  lived  in  the  Schloss  and  took  care  of  it  gave  us 
lunch  on  a  table  outside  and  I  thought  the  place  such  a 
paradise  that  I  wished  we  could  spend  the  summer  there. 
But  it  was  impossible  because  Wolfram  could  not  have 
gone  to  and  fro  to  the  barracks  and  Dr.  Marwitz  could 
not  have  spared  the  time  to  visit  Max  there.  So  we 
went  back  to  Hohenroda  and  Max  felt  a  little  better 
every  day  while  I  felt  a  little  worse.  However,  Dr. 
Marwitz  assured  Wolfram  that  there  was  nothing  much 
the  matter  and  that  if  I  spent  six  weeks  at  Ilgesheim 
taking  the  waters  and  doing  exactly  what  his  colleague 
Dr.  Ebers  told  me  to  do  I  should  return  as  fresh  and 
blooming  as  I  had  arrived  a  year  ago. 

We  went  to  Ilgesheim  in  the  middle  of  June  and  we 
stayed  at  the  Kursaal  which  was  the  best  hotel  in  the 
place.  Ilgesheim  was  what  Germans  call  a  Luxusbad. 
It  had  a  Casino,  large  well-kept  gardens  and  a  number 
of  good  hotels.  A  great  many  of  the  summer  visitors 
came  from  other  countries  and  in  our  hotel  quite  half 
were  English  and  American.  Max  and  I  had  a  little 
table  to  ourselves  in  the  Speisesaal  and  at  first  we  did 
not  make  any  friends.  The  Kur  took  up  a  good  deal 
of  our  time  and  when  we  were  not  at  the  Brunnen  or 


i;o  THE  DEVIL'S  CRADLE 

the  Badehaus  or  taking  the  little  walks  prescribed  by 
the  doctor  we  were  probably  in  our  own  rooms  trying 
to  recover  from  the  Kur.  Then  we  liked  the  shops  and 
the  market  where  there  was  the  most  lovely  fruit  that 
we  were  not  allowed  to  eat  because  of  the  Kur.  But 
we  could  buy  it  for  Wilkins  until  she  said  that  she 
thought  she  would  try  the  Kur,  too.  When  that  hap- 
pened, we  went  to  the  Bohemian  glass  shop  and  bought 
her  a  beautiful  glass  to  take  with  her  to  the  Brunnen, 
but  though  she  admired  it  immensely  she  only  drank 
out  of  it  once.  She  said  the  water  gave  her  a  head- 
ache and  that  she  had  never  expected  a  German  Kur 
to  suit  an  English  constitution.  She  was  enjoying  her- 
self uncommonly  though,  because  some  of  the  English 
and  Americans  had  brought  maids  and  nurses  with  them 
and  she  made  several  friends  who  understood  about 
Duchesses  and  presumably  bore  with  her  when  she  talked 
of  them. 

Max  and  I  were  glad  that  she  was  so  happy  and 
never  at  all  on  our  minds  as  we  liked  to  be  together 
all  day  and  by  ourselves.  You  cannot  imagine  what  a 
different  boy  he  was  now  that  Herr  Putzer  had  ceased 
from  troubling  him.  He  began  to  put  on  weight,  to 
get  some  color  into  his  cheeks  and  to  recover  his  spirits. 
He  was  naturally  a  lively  happy  boy,  with  considerable 
intelligence  and  a  taste  for  reading.  He  was  interested 
in  outdoor  things,  too,  and  we  had  long  rambles  in  the 
woods  together,  looking  for  rare  plants,  watching  birds 
and  insects,  waiting  sometimes  for  sunsets  and  getting 
scolded  by  Wilkins  when  we  got  back  late.  But  she 
could  not  scold  much  because  she  saw  us  both  getting 
hungrier  and  stronger  every  day  and  she  admitted  that 


THE  DEVIL'S  CRADLE  171 

the  Kur  seemed  to  be  doing  me  good  though  I  wasn't 
born  to  it  and  she  had  never  expected  it  to  take  the 
place  of  sea-bathing  and  whitings  for  breakfast.  Cromer 
was  what  she  would  have  recommended  for  both  of  us 
if  she  had  been  consulted,  but  of  course  one  could  not 
expect  German  doctors  to  know  anything  about  Cromer. 

"I  know  about  Cromer,"  said  Max.  "I  know  every 
village  and  creek  on  your  East  Coast.  Herr  Putzer 
spent  his  summer  holidays  there  two  years  running  and 
made  a  special  study  of  it." 

"What  did  Herr  Putzer  want  to  do  that  for?"  said 
Wilkins. 

"He  had  instructions,  he  said.  He  had  to  find  out 
where  the  farms  and  granaries  were,  and  the  black- 
smiths and  the  wells  and  springs  and  the  public-houses. 
Don't  English  people  find  out  all  these  things  about 
Germany  ?" 

"English  people  mind  their  own  business,"  said  Wil- 
kins. "As  a  rule  they  hardly  remember  there  is  such 
a  country  as  Germany.  I  suppose  it's  bein'  an  island — 
We  seem  to  keep  ourselves  to  ourselves  more  than 
foreigners  do." 

What  Max  said  affected  me  unpleasantly.  I  thought 
Wilkins  was  right  when  she  said  that  the  English  on 
the  whole  took  no  heed  of  Germany.  But  that  was  not 
a  matter  for  self -congratulation  if  Germany  were  taking 
such  heed  of  us  as  the  boy  suggested:  dangerous  far- 
seeing,  methodical  heed  that  a  bird  ol  prey  would  find 
useful  when  the  day  came  for  it  to  swoop.  But  when 
I  went  down  to  dinner  a  few  minutes  later  the  uneasy 
impression  passed,  for  all  was  visibly  well  with  the  world. 
The  huge  room  was  crowded  with  people  from  most 


172  THE  DEVIL'S  CRADLE 

of  the  civilized  countries  in  Europe,  dining  together  in 
comfort  and  amity.  At  one  table  I  saw  that  Dr.  Ebers 
was  the  guest  of  some  Americans  staying  in  the  hotel. 
At  another  some  charming  Austrian  and  French  people 
sat  together.  A  patriarchal  family  of  Russians  of  all 
sorts  and  sizes  occupied  a  large  table  by  themselves: 
and  Max  and  I  had  our  little  one  close  to  an  elderly 
Dutch  couple  with  whom  we  exchanged  greetings  as  we 
took  our  seats.  But  while  we  ate  our  soup  a  group  of 
five  people,  whom  we  were  not  expecting  and  were  not 
over-pleased  to  see,  made  their  entry  into  the  room  and 
were  looked  at  as  new  guests  are,  with  curiosity  and 
appraisement.  Max  turned  rather  pale  and  glanced  at 
me,  for  one  of  them  was  Herr  Putzer.  He  followed 
his  new  employers,  Baron  and  Baroness  v.  Osthofen,  and 
with  him  were  his  pupils,  Max's  second  cousins.  They 
all  saw  me  as  they  approached  our  table  and  the  Baron 
and  Baroness  recognized  us  in  a  chilly  way.  So  did 
Herr  Putzer.  But  they  did  not  speak  to  us  until  dinner 
was  over  and  we  were  all  streaming  out  of  the  room. 
Then  the  Baron  and  Baroness  could  hardly  avoid  it  as 
we  found  ourselves  side  by  side. 

"I  heard  that  you  and  Max  were  here,"  the  Baroness 
said,  "but  I  did  not  know  that  you  were  at  the  Kursaal. 
Are  you  taking  the  waters  and  the  baths?" 

I  said  we  were. 

"They  fill  up  one's  time  completely,  I  find.  I  come 
every  year  and  when  I  meet  friends  here  I  explain  at 
once  that  I  cannot  hope  to  see  anything  of  them.  When 
I  am  not  drinking  or  bathing  or  walking  or  eating,  I  am 
lying  down." 

I  said  it  was  true  and  she  looked  relieved. 


THE  DEVIL'S  CRADLE  173 

"But  every  day  we  shall  walk  out  of  the  room  together 
and  exchange  a  few  words,"  she  said  a  little  more 
amiably. 

I  said  that  would  be  very  pleasant  and  got  away. 


XXXII 

I  HAD  seen  very  little  of  the  Osthofens.  She  was  a 
North  German  and  as  such  looked  down  on  the 
South  Germans  although  she  had  married  one. 
She  spoke  differently.  Her  enunciation  was  precise,  her 
voice  clear,  cold  and  hard,  she  clipped  no  words,  she 
used  few  diminutives.  She  had  traveled,  she  knew  city 
life  as  well  as  country  life,  she  dressed  well  and  she 
went  out  a  great  deal  in  Reichenstadt.  Her  fair  hair 
was  always  as  correctly  done  as  a  barber's  wig,  her 
manner  was  arrogant  and  her  mouth  stretched  from  ear 
to  ear.  She  was  said  to  rule  her  household  and  her 
children  with  a  rod  of  iron  and  to  manage  a  difficult 
husband  better  than  a  woman  with  a  gentler  nature 
could  have  done.  His  moral  reputation  stood  at  zero, 
but  apparently  his  wife  turned  a  deaf  ear  to  the  stories 
in  circulation  about  him.  At  any  rate  they  lived  to- 
gether in  apparent  harmony  and  when  he  raised  a  public 
scandal  by  his  brutality  to  some  recruits  she  took  his 
part.  The  recruits,  she  said,  were  infame  Schweine  and 
had  to  be  dealt  with  severely  when  they  showed  signs 
of  insubordination.  Her  favorite  phrase  was  "Ordnung 
muss  seln"  and  you  soon  discovered  that  she  had  some- 
thing Procrustean  in  her  nature  that  would  fit  the  victim 


174  THE  DEVIL'S  CRADLE 

to  the  system  at  any  cost.  I  could  imagine  that  she 
found  a  kindred  spirit  in  Herr  Putzer  although  her 
pride  of  caste  would  not  allow  her  to  forget  for  a 
moment  that  he  was  a  dependent  and  a  bourgeois.  It 
was  perhaps  natural  that  she  should  regard  me  with 
suspicion  and  dislike  since  she  accepted  Herr  Putzer's 
estimate  of  me  and  added  to  it  her  fanatical  aversion 
from  my  nation:  an  aversion  that  did  not  prevent  her 
irom  imitating  our  clothes,  our  houses  and  our  habits 
as  closely  as  possible. 

There  is,  however,  one  respect  in  which  Germans  like 
the  Osthofens  do  not  imitate  us  and  that  is  in  our  atti- 
tude towards  Jews.  In  England  and  America  you  accept 
people  of  Jewish  blood  much  as  you  accept  other  people  : 
on  their  merits.  If  you  like  them  you  make  friends  with 
them;  if  you  don't  like  them  you  avoid  them  as  far  as 
you  can.  But  the  Osthofen  point  of  view  is  quite  other- 
wise. Jews!  Infame  Schweine!  You  should  have  seen 
the  whole  family  of  Osthofen  with  Herr  Putzer  in  at- 
tendance ruffle  past  the  Gutheims  and  the  von  Gosens 
one  morning  when  they  came  into  the  Speisesaal  and 
found  me  speaking  to  Eduard  and  Eugenie  while  Papa 
and  Mamma  and  Emma  hovered  near  us  and  tried  to 
catch  my  eye.  Well!  they  caught  it.  What  could  I  do? 
We  were  all  staying  in  the  same  hotel  and  were  bound 
to  meet  several  times  each  day.  I  could  not  go  on 
withholding  all  notice  and  refusing  the  olive  branch  they 
held  so  persistently  under  my  very  nose.  I  wrote  to 
Wolfram  and  explained  that  it  would  have  been  too 
wearing  and  that  rather  than  carry  on  an  active  feud 
with  people  staying  under  the  same  roof  I  would  break 
my  Kur  and  return  home.  I  expected  a  letter  to  say 


THE  DEVIL'S  CRADLE  175 

I  might  please  myself,  but  Wolfram  took  no  risks.  He 
telegraphed.  The  idea  of  my  giving  up  a  Kur  without 
doctor's  orders  and  flying  home  with  Max  before  we 
had  taken  the  proper  number  of  baths  and  glasses  of 
water  put  him  and  his  parents  into  a  fluster.  Such  con- 
duct would  be  leichtsinnig. 

But  I  wished  Dr.  Marwitz  had  not  sent  Emma  to 
Ilgesheim  and  that  the  whole  family  had  not  decided  to 
spend  the  summer-freshness  there.  To  be  civil  to  them 
and  to  be  related  to  the  Osthofens  was  about  as  easy 
as  to  establish  cordial  relations  with  a  Babu  family  in 
an  Indian  military  station.  My  own  sympathies  swayed 
like  a  pendulum  between  the  two  parties  at  first,  but 
by  the  end  of  a  week  inclined  steadily  towards  the  Jews : 
for  Herr  Gutheim  had  arrived  and  I  had  always  liked 
him;  and  Oscar  Strauss  came,  too,  with  the  obvious  in- 
tention of  paying  his  court  to  Emma.  In  fact,  Eugenie 
confided  to  me  that  all  the  important  clauses  of  the 
treaty  between  her  family  and  the  young  man  were 
satisfactorily  arranged  and  that  the  only  thing  left  for 
him  to  do  was  to  ask  Emma  to  have  him  and  she 
had  signified  in  a  maidenly  way  that  when  he  did  ask 
she  would  be  willing  and  it  had  been  Eugenie's  idea 
to  postpone  the  romantic  moment  of  declaration  till  now 
when  if  Oscar  chose  he  could  bring  it  about  in  a  moonlit 
garden  and  in  that  way  have  a  charming  memory  to 
carry  with  them  through,  it  was  to  be  hoped,  a  long 
happy  married  life.  By  this  time  I  was  not  surprised 
by  the  odd  blend  of  business  and  sentiment  that,  as 
far  as  I  know,  is  peculiar  to  Germans,  but  I  continued 
to  be  diverted  by  it.  To  watch  Frau  Gutheim  and 
Eugenie  conduct  Emma's  love-affair  and  see  that  the 


176  THE  DEVIL'S  CRADLE 

young  man  had  his  opportunities  was  like  watching  an 
old-fashioned  play  or  reading  an  old-fashioned  novel  in 
which  the  characters  play  their  part  with  a  simplicity 
we  moderns  cannot  achieve.  I  think  everyone  in  the 
hotel  knew  what  was  going  on  and  the  principal  parties 
seemed  to  court  publicity  rather  than  to  avoid  it.  They 
sat  together  in  corners;  they  strolled  together  in  the 
hotel  gardens.  I  began  to  wonder  why  Herr  Strauss 
hesitated  over  the  word  that  was  to  make  him  the  hap- 
piest of  men — till  Eugenie  told  me  as  a  great  secret  that 
he  was  waiting  for  the  betrothal  ring.  It  would  arrive 
shortly  from  Reichenstadt,  and  at  the  same  time  there 
would  be  a  moon. 

"You  will  see,"  she  said,  "one  morning  he  will  re- 
ceive a  small  sealed  packet  and  after  supper  he  will 
suggest  to  Emma  that  it  is  a  glorious  evening.  ..." 

"Suppose  it  rains?"  I  suggested. 

"Then  he  will  find  some  other  plan.  Oscar  is  highly 
original  and  ingenious." 

"Did  he  sing  'Du  bist  wie  erne  Blume'  to  Emma?" 

"He  did:  at  our  house  about  six  weeks  ago.  It  was 
very  exciting." 

Eugenie  and  I  had  both  met  at  the  Brunnen  and  were 
drinking  our  morning  glass  there.  It  was  not  seven 
o'clock  yet  and  she  had  evidently  thrown  her  German 
imitation  of  a  Burberry  over  her  nightgown  and  a  lace 
cap  over  hair  not  dressed  yet  for  public  view. 

I  thought  her  an  odd-looking  figure  to  appear  out  of 
doors  at  all,  but  there  were  others  to  bear  her  company. 
Baroness  v.  Osthofen  had  made  a  toilet  just  as  hurried 
and  as  unbecoming  and  I  wondered  that  any  of  the 
women  liked  to  be  seen  at  such  a  disadvantage.  I  did 


THE  DEVIL'S  CRADLE  177 

not  get  Wilkins  out  of  bed  before  her  time  to  dress 
me  for  these  early-morning  visits,  but  I  would  not  dress 
myself  like  a  scarecrow.  When  I  got  up  I  put  on  what- 
ever I  meant  to  wear  for  the  rest  of  the  morning  and 
did  my  hair  and  wore  a  hat.  Eugenie  used  to  look  me 
up  and  down  and  ask  me  for  whom  I  made  myself  so 
smart;  and  Baroness  v.  Osthofen  looked  me  up  and 
down,  too,  but  avoided  me  if  she  saw  Eugenie  within  hail. 

"People  of  that  kind  are  so  pushing,"  she  said  one 
morning  as  if  to  excuse  her  usual  want  of  cordiality. 
"The  more  you  show  them  that  you  do  not  desire  their 
acquaintance  the  more  they  try  to  force  themselves  on 
you." 

I  could  not  deny  it.  Eugenie  was  rather  pushing  and 
she  made  no  secret  of  her  wish  to  be  on  visiting  terms 
with  the  v.  Osthofens.  She  said  it  was  for  Eduard's 
sake;  that  a  wife  who  fulfilled  her  duty  could  do  a  great 
deal  to  further  her  husband's  career.  She  did  not  ex- 
plain how  the  v.  Osthofens  were  going  to  assist  Eduard's 
upward  progress,  but  I  gathered  that  in  general  she 
considered  it  judicious  to  know  people  in  their  position 
and  that  any  disinclination  on  their  part  to  know  her 
only  acted  as  an  incentive.  Ambition  of  a  robust  kind 
will  not  be  balked  by  little  obstacles. 

"It  is  a  very  difficult  state  of  mind  to  understand," 
I  said. 

"I  see  no  difficulty  in  it  at  all,"  said  the  Baroness  in 
her  most  disagreeable  tone.  "Persons  of  the  middle 
class  are  naturally  anxious  to  associate  with  those  who 
are  well  born  and  try  to  do  so  either  by  marriage  or 
by  friendship." 

"Some  of  them  do,"  I  admitted. 


i;8  THE  DEVIL'S  CRADLE 

"All  of  them,"  insisted  the  Baroness. 

"An  English  politician  once  compared  a  man's  liking 
for  titles  to  a  donkey's  liking  for  thistles,"  I  said. 

She  locked  at  me  coldly  and  threw  up  her  chin  in  a 
peculiar  way  that  both  fascinated  and  exasperated  me. 
I  had  never  met  anyone  so  naively  arrogant  and  when 
I  was  with  her  I  felt  tempted  to  see  to  what  lengths 
she  would  go.  It  was  rather  like  stirring  up  an  alligator 
with  a  stick.  You  do  the  animal  no  harm  and  if  you 
stand  where  he  cannot  hurt  you  the  snap  of  his  jaws 
is  thrilling. 

"The  politician  was  probably  a  Social  Democrat,"  she 
said. 

"Probably." 

"And  therefore  an  enemy  of  the  human  race." 

"Does  that  follow?" 

"Of  course  it  follows." 

"I  don't  think  it  does  in  England,"  I  said  in  a  dove- 
like  way:  and  listened  for  the  inevitable  sneer. 

"England  is  a  decadent  State,"  said  the  Baroness.  "In 
its  present  condition,  when  it  is  on  the  eve  of  civil  war 
I  can  take  no  interest  in  it.  You  cannot  expect  intel- 
ligent Germans  to  have  any  sympathy  with  the  internal 
quarrels  that  are  breaking  you  to  pieces." 

"But  they  would  like  the  pieces,"  I  suggested. 

"They  will  have  them,"  said  the  Baroness,  and  drank 
off  her  glass  as  if  she  were  drinking  to  the  day  when 
the  British  Empire  lay  in  bits  ready  for  the  watchful 
beak  and  claws  of  the  German  eagle. 


THE  DEVIL'S  CRADLE  179 


XXXIII 

I  SHOULD  not  have  wanted  to  stir  up  Baron  v. 
Osthofen  with  a  long  stick  in  order  to  hear  him 
snap  his  jaws.  I  was  afraid  of  that  man.  He 
had  a  leering  eye,  a  receding  chin,  tow-colored  hair,  and 
thin  bloodless  lips.  I  could  imagine  him  being  cruel 
to  recruits  and  I  had  seen  him  cruel  to  his  horse.  To 
young  women  he  was  gallant,  offensively  so  in  my 
opinion.  Old  women  he  derided  and  passed  by.  He 
gave  people  nicknames,  usually  unpleasant  ones  con- 
nected with  some  personal  infirmity  and  he  considered 
civilians  dirt  under  his  feet.  His  politeness  to  Herr 
Putzer  had  a  sneer  behind  it  and  his  swagger  in  the 
public  rooms  of  the  hotel  and  the  Casino  made  him  the 
most  detested  and  notorious  man  in  Ilgesheim.  In  his 
wife's  presence  he  always  addressed  me  as  his  beautiful 
cousin,  probably  because  it  annoyed  her  and  when  she 
was  not  there  he  paid  me  more  attention  than  I  en- 
joyed. He  was  one  of  the  very  few  Germans  I  had 
met  who  professed  to  admire  England:  but  his  admira- 
tion was  coupled  with  contempt  for  her  military  im- 
portance and  envy  of  her  imperial  greatness.  He  told 
me  one  day  that  the  Germans  looked  forward  to  occupy- 
ing our  country  houses  when  they  got  into  England  and 
to  staying  amongst  us  until  we  had  paid  an  indemnity 
calculated  to  bleed  us  white.  I  thought  at  first  that  this 
kind  of  talk  was  empty  boasting  without  shape  or  plan 
behind  it,  but  he  advised  me  frankly  that  it  was  not. 
We  had  stood  in  their  way  and  rejected  their  friendship 


i8o  THE  DEVIL'S  CRADLE 

so  we  were  to  discover  what  their  enmity  meant.  Not 
just  yet  perhaps,  but  sooner  or  later  when  it  suited  them. 
It  was  rather  horrible  to  meet  Germans  in  this  condi- 
tion of  mind  and  to  remember  how  little  was  known 
or  suspected  of  it  at  home.  I  wished  I  could  wake  up 
my  country  and  tell  them  what  birds  of  prey  were  get- 
ting ready  for  a  swoop  on  them:  but  you  can't  wake 
people  as  determinedly  asleep  to  danger  as  the  English 
were  before  the  war.  Besides,  though  people  like  the 
Baron  and  Herr  Putzer  made  me  feel  creepy  for  a 
moment  I  soon  put  the  sense  of  discomfort  from  me 
and  hoped  their  menace  would  never  materialize.  At 
the  end  of  June,  1914,  my  thoughts  were  not  on  wars 
but  on  those  little  harmonies  and  discords  of  daily 
life  that  matter  more  to  most  of  us  than  politics.  Max 
was  getting  stronger  every  day  and  so  was  I.  Life 
in  Ilgesheim  was  amusing  and  agreeable.  We  avoided 
the  Osthofens  as  much  as  we  could;  we  were  polite  to 
the  Gutheim  collection  but  not  intimate  with  them;  and 
for  a  week  or  two  we  saw  a  good  deal  of  an  American 
family  called  Lincoln.  However,  they  do  not  come  into 
my  story  and  I  only  mention  them  because  Mr.  Van 
Brunt  was  a  friend  of  theirs  and  it  was  through  them 
that  I  got  to  know  him. 

The  rank  and  fashion  of  Ilgesheim  usually  went  to 
the  Casino  after  supper  for  an  hour,  sometimes  to  a 
concert,  sometimes  to  dance  and  sometimes  just  to  sit 
about  in  the  reception-rooms  or  out  of  doors  but  under 
cover  at  little  tables.  Max  and  I  did  not  go  there  much 
until  we  began  to  feel  better  and  were  tempted  to  join 
in  the  life  of  the  place  by  the  Lincolns  who  joined  in 
everything.  One  evening  when  we  were  sitting  at  one 


of  the  little  tables  together  Sally  Lincoln  looked  up  and 
exclaimed  with  a  light  of  pleasure  on  her  face :  "There's 
Cornelius  Van  Brunt !"  and  turning  to  me,  she  said  with 
her  fascinating  little  twang,  "He's  a  lovely  man."  I 
could  see  that  her  mother  agreed  with  her  for  when 
Mr.  Van  Brunt  came  up  to  us  she  welcomed  him 
warmly  and  introduced  him  to  Max  and  me.  I  did  not 
understand  why  Sally  called  him  lovely.  There  was 
nothing  lovely  about  him.  He  was  as  tall  as  Wolfram 
and  had  shrewd  merry  eyes,  a  sedate  manner  and  lean, 
rather  plain  features  with  sense  and  strength  in  every 
line.  I  liked  him  the  moment  I  saw  him  and  so  did 
Max.  The  Lincolns  told  me  as  he  made  his  way  to 
our  table  that  he  was  the  son  of  a  rich  man,  that  he 
had  been  educated  in  the  law,  and  now  had  some  small 
post  in  their  foreign  diplomatic  service.  They  had  not 
expected  to  see  him  at  Ilgesheim. 

"I'm  at  Bertholdsruhe  now,"  he  said.  "I've  left 
Berlin." 

We  sat  there  for  a  little  while  and  chatted  and  listened 
to  the  military  band  which  was  playing  in  the  kiosk  in 
front  of  us:  and  we  all  told  Mr.  Van  Brunt  that  life 
at  Ilgesheim  was  very  agreeable  and  that  a  considerable 
number  of  English  and  Americans  were  taking  the 
waters  here.  He  was  not  going  to  take  them  himself, 
he  said.  Nothing  happened  that  evening  that  is  worth 
recording,  even  in  a  chronicle  of  small  beer,  but  I  re- 
member it  well  because  I  saw  Mr.  Van  Brunt  for  the 
first  time  and  felt  more  akin  to  him  at  once  than  I  ever 
had  done  or  ever  could  do  to  a  German.  We  spoke 
with  the  same  tongue  and  I  felt  pretty  sure  that  we 
saw  some  things  with  the  same  eyes  and  that  they  were 


182  THE  DEVIL'S  CRADLE 

the  things  that  matter.  I  knew  the  moment  I  saw  him 
that  he  would  not  be  cruel  to  a  recruit  or  a  horse,  and 
that  his  attitude  to  women  was  what  women  most  value 
in  men.  His  strength  was  at  our  service  and  his  re- 
gard for  us  was  founded  on  respect.  I  had  been  more 
than  a  year  amongst  Germans  now  and  the  contrast 
between  their  view  and  the  American  or  English  struck 
me  with  a  pang.  I  should  never  get  back  to  it,  I  re- 
flected and  should  live  out  my  life  attached  to  Wolfram 
but  everlastingly  in  conflict  with  the  tone  of  his  country 
folk  in  all  classes :  whether  I  watched  the  peasant  women 
in  the  field  bearing  burdens  and  doing  work  no  woman 
should  attempt,  or  whether  I  encountered  the  Putzers 
and  the  Osthofens  of  Germany  all  blown  with  pride  of 
sex  and  insufferably  gallant,  or  unconvincingly,  enrag- 
ingly  superior.  Baron  v.  Osthofen  came  up  to  me  while 
these  ideas  were  floating  idly  and  rather  wistfully 
through  my  mind  and  though  no  one  encouraged  him, 
he  sat  down  at  our  little  table  and  stared  at  Mr.  Van 
Brunt  as  if  he  resented  his  presence.  Mrs.  Lincoln  in- 
troduced the  American  to  the  Baron  and  pronounced 
the  Baron's  name  more  plainly  than  is  usual  when  people 
perform  introductions.  I  felt  sure  from  Mr.  Van 
Brunt's  glance  at  him  that  he  had  heard  it  before,  but 
he  did  not  say  so.  The  Baron  adopted  a  tone  of  in- 
timacy towards  Max  and  me  that  was  quite  unwarranted, 
but  which  it  was  not  easy  to  check:  for  he  was  too 
clever  to  give  us  the  chance.  He  made  his  assumption 
by  the  easy  friendliness  of  his  manner,  his  knowledge 
of  our  daily  doings  and  his  novel  interest  in  Wolfram 
and  my  life  at  Hohenroda.  I  was  his  beautiful  cousin 
whether  he  spoke  English  or  German  and  he  wanted  to 


THE  DEVIL'S  CRADLE  183 

know  whether  I  was  strong  enough  yet  to  walk  to  the 
top  of  the  Ilgesberg  and  have  luncheon  there.  As  I 
had  proposed  this  very  expedition  to  the.  Lincolns  and 
Mr.  Van  Brunt  before  the  Baron  joined  us  he  placed 
me  in  a  dilemma:  but  I  answered  him  evasively  and  I 
thought  they  might  conclude  that  I  did  not  want  him 
with  us.  When  at  last  he  took  his  leave  we  arranged 
that  we  would  go  to  the  Ilgesberg  next  day  and  make 
an  early  start  and  let  no  one  in  the  hotel  know  where 
we  were  going.  Mr.  Van  Brunt  did  not  contribute 
much  to  our  discussion  of  plans,  but  he  fell  in  with  them 
and  promised  to  be  ready  by  nine  o'clock. 

"If  my  cousin  v.  Osthofen  had  gone  I  should  have 
stayed  at  home,"  said  Max  unexpectedly. 

"So  should  I,  sonny,"  said  the  American  equally  un- 
expectedly. 

"You  like  him  not?" 

Mr.  Van  Brunt  glanced  across  the  table  at  me  and 
we  understood  each  other.  We  neither  of  us  said  any- 
thing just  then  and  as  it  was  getting  chilly  I  took  Max 
in  a  minute  or  two  later.  But  next  day  Mrs.  Lincoln 
told  me  that  Mr.  Van  Brunt  had  told  her  that  his  gorge 
rose  at  Germans  of  the  Osthofen  type  and  that  in  his 
opinion  if  a  few  of  them  were  wiped  off  the  face  of 
the  earth  the  peoples  of  the  earth  would  be  the  better 
for  it.  I  said  I  thought  so,  too,  but  that  I  had  not  dis- 
covered how  the  wiping  off  was  to  be  done  because  there 
were  a  great  many  of  them  and  the  whole  nation  admired 
them  and  liked  licking  their  boots.  I  told  her  some 
instances  that  had  come  to  my  ears  of  outrages  on 
civilians  and  how  civilians  took  them  for  granted  much 
as  serfs  in  the  Middle  Ages  took  for  granted  their  feudal 


184  THE  DEVIL'S  CRADLE 

lords'  gallows  tree  and  right  over   them  of  life  and 
death. 

"Some  day  there  will  be  an  awakening,"  Mrs.  Lincoln 
said.  But  I  saw  no  signs  of  this.  In  the  summer  of 
1914  the  Germans  seemed  to  me  a  very  prosperous,  con- 
tented people  and  if  once  in  a  way  a  v.  Osthofen  ran 
his  sword  through  a  Schmidt  or  a  Miiller  that  did  not 
matter  much  to  the  large  majority  of  Schmidts  and 
Miillers  who  pursued  their  avocations  under  the  strong 
arm  of  their  rulers  and  submitted  like  sheep  to  a  dis- 
cipline that  they  were  taught  from  infancy  was  necessary 
to  their  good. 


XXXIV 

MAX  and  I  had  not  been  to  the  top  of  the  Ilges- 
berg  yet  although  it  was  the  favorite  expedi- 
tion from  Ilgesheim  and  always  recommended 
by  the  coachmen  when  we  took  a  drive.  But  we  wanted 
to  walk  through  the  woods  and  we  knew  that  would 
break  into  the  best  part  of  the  day  and  cause  us  to  miss 
our  baths  and  some  of  our  glasses  of  water.  To  do 
that  would  be  to  treat  our  Kur  with  levity  and  would 
have  given  good  Dr.  Ebers  pain ;  so  we  waited  till  he 
rubbed  his  hands  over  us  with  satisfaction  and  said  we 
both  did  Ilgesheim  credit  and  that  for  the  rest  of  our 
stay  we  might  pursue  health  easily  and  pleasantly,  tak- 
ing fewer  baths,  drinking  less  water  and  relaxing  those 
dietetic  rules  we  found  most  irksome.  Max  and  I  had 
instantly  gone  to  the  market  and  bought  large  quantities 


THE  DEVIL'S  CRADLE  185 

of  wild  strawberries  and  eaten  them  with  cream.  We 
ought  to  have  made  ourselves  ill,  the  doctor  said  when 
we  told  him:  but  we  explained  that  we  both  felt  par- 
ticularly well,  and  strong  enough  to  walk  up  the  Ilges- 
berg  and  down  again. 

"It's  only  a  hill,"  I  said,  "you  can't  call  it  a  moun- 
tain." 

"It  is  the  only  mountain  we  have,"  he  argued. 

"There  is  probably  a  well-made  road  to  the  top." 

"Of  course  there  is.  Otherwise  how  would  you  get 
to  the  top  ?" 

"And  a  restaurant?" 

"An  excellent  restaurant.  When  you  have  walked  or 
even  driven  to  the  top  of  a  mountain  you  require  sus- 
tenance before  you  descend  again.  If  you  were  not  sure 
of  getting  it  you  would  naturally  stay  in  the  valley." 

So  we  started  next  morning  at  nine  and  took  nothing 
to  eat  or  drink  with  us.  It  was  a  hot  lovely  day  with 
just  enough  stir  in  the  air  to  refresh  us  till  we  got  into 
the  forest  and  there  it  was  fragrant  but  rather  close 
and  steamy.  However,  we  took  the  ascent  very  slowly 
and  found  as  I  expected  a  well-made  winding  carriage 
road  all  the  way.  Max  marched  ahead  with  Sally 
Lincoln  who  like  him  was  interested  in  butterflies.  They 
had  brought  their  nets  with  them  and  Max  had  strapped 
on  one  of  those  green  tin  specimen-boxes  that  seem  nec- 
essary to  a  German  boy's  happiness  when  he  is  on  an 
expedition.  I  walked  behind  with  Mrs.  Lincoln  and 
Mr.  Van  Brunt  and  felt  that  all  was  well  with  my  world. 
At  least  I  felt  like  that  for  the  first  two  hours  while 
we  ambled  lazily  up-hill  talking  of  this  and  that,  and 
at  times  not  talking  at  all.  Mr.  Van  Brunt  reminded 


i86  THE  DEVIL'S  CRADLE 

me  of  Dad  in  some  ways.  He  was  a  man  of  few  words 
and  when  you  thought  he  was  wrapped  in  a  dream  he 
knew  what  was  going  on  and  had  his  opinion.  I  re- 
membered Dad's  apparent  indifference  to  Eugenie  Gut- 
heim  when  she  stayed  with  us:  and  how  after  all  he 
had  sized  her  up.  I  thought  once  or  twice  that  Mr.  Van 
Brunt  was  sizing  me  up,  but  I  did  not  mind  for  I 
suspected  that  the  verdict  was  favorable.  I  wanted  it 
to  be  favorable  although  I  had  only  known  him  a  few 
hours:  for  I  was  absurdly  glad  to  meet  a  man  of  my 
own  blood  again  and  my  own  outlook.  Unless  you  have 
lived  entirely  amongst  Germans  of  the  military  caste  for 
some  time  you  cannot  imagine  how  exhilarating  I  found 
it  to  walk  up  that  forest  road  with  Mr.  Van  Brunt  and 
view  the  universe  from  his  eyes.  It  was  like  being  let 
out  of  a  garment  that  cramps  your  body  and  consequently 
clogs  your  mind.  He  said  that  he  had  no  one  belonging 
to  him  in  the  army  and  he  did  not  sink  into  the  earth 
as  he  said  it.  On  the  contrary.  Even  in  Germany 
he  preferred  the  civilians.  Preferred  the  civilians ! 
Merchants,  doctors,  lawyers,  professors !  And  I  had 
spent  my  German  year  amongst  people  who  treated  the 
civilians  they  were  forced  to  know  politely  but  as  if  they 
were  of  an  inferior  clay.  I  wished  Mr.  Van  Brunt  could 
meet  my  father-in-law. 

We  were  about  half  an  hour  from  the  top  when  we 
heard  the  sound  of  a  horse's  hoofs  behind  us  and  look- 
ing back,  I  saw  Baron  v.  Osthofen  on  his  black  mare, 
Rusla.  When  I  saw  his  face  I  thought  of  what  an 
old  peasant  says  of  the  blackguard  in  a  German  play 
I  had  read  lately:  "I  cry  God  help  us  when  I  meet  that 
man,"  he  says.  The  Baron  was  in  a  tearing  rage,  it  was 


THE  DEVIL'S  CRADLE  187 

plain.  He  rode  so  close  to  the  bank  that  he  pushed  us 
right  into  it  as  he  passed  and  as  there  was  a  little  gutter 
cut  at  that  edge  of  the  road  Mrs.  Lincoln  stumbled  over 
it  in  her  hurry  to  get  out  of  the  Baron's  way  and  was 
thrown  against  the  bank  rather  roughly.  She  did  not 
hurt  herself  because  Mr.  Van  Brunt  and  I  caught  her, 
but  her  hat  and  hair  were  disarranged  and  she  was  con- 
siderably annoyed  and  discomposed.  I  never  saw  a  man 
angrier  than  the  American:  and  his  anger  was  the  quiet 
kind  that  I  understood  best,  not  easily  roused  and  not 
easily  stilled.  He  shouted  to  Sally  and  Max  so  that 
they  as  well  as  the  Baron  could  hear  what  he  said. 

"Take  care!"  he  called.  "Get  out  of  the  fellow's 
way." 

The  next  moment  the  Baron  had  passed  them  and  no 
harm  had  been  done:  but  they  had  been  crowded  into 
the  bank  just  as  we  had  been,  and  there  was  no  need 
for  it  since  the  road  was  wide.  We  were  all  furious  and 
agreed  that  his  head  on  a  charger  was  what  would 
appease  us;  so  when  we  got  to  the  top  and  he  came  to 
meet  us,  still  obviously  out  of  humor  but  with  the 
formula  of  welcome  on  his  lips,  we  hardly  answered  him. 

"I'll  go  in  and  order  lunch,"  said  Mr.  Van  Brunt  and 
the  Baron  with  a  sneer  about  his  mouth  and  eyes  watched 
him  depart.  Then  he  turned  to  me: 

"You  and  Max  are  my  guests,"  he  said.  "Our  table 
is  ready.  Will  you  come,  my  beautiful  cousin?" 

"Certainly  not,"  said  I.  "This  is  my  party  and  the 
three  Americans  are  my  guests." 

"I  invited  you  last  night." 

"I  had  invited  them  before  you  joined  us." 

"You  did  not  say  so." 


188  THE  DEVIL'S  CRADLE 

I  looked  at  him  straight  in  the  eyes. 

"My  party  was  complete."  I  said.  I  hate  being  rude 
to  people,  but  a  man  who  is  both  a  coxcomb  and  a  bully 
brings  rebuke  on  himself.  My  anger  against  him  was 
still  hot  and  I  did  not  care  how  angry  he  became  with 
me.  He  certainly  had  the  most  unpleasant  eyes  I  have 
ever  seen.  They  were  a  watery  gray  and  had  a  slight 
squint  in  them:  and  when  he  was  annoyed  they  nar- 
rowed and  the  pupils  looked  like  pin  points.  I  could 
imagine  that  his  recruits  said  "God  help  us"  when  they 
saw  him  coming.  But  I  was  not  a  recruit  and  he  had 
no  claim  OH  me,  not  even  the  claim  of  friendship. 

"You  are  very  plain-spoken,"  he  said. 

"You  have  done  your  best  to  ride  over  me  and  my 
friends,"  I  reminded  him.  "Bad  manners  of  that  kind 
free  the  tongue." 

"You  accuse  me  of  bad  manners!"  He  turned  red 
and  began  to  shout  as  I  had  expected  he  would. 

"Hush!"  I  said;  for  most  of  the  little  outdoor  tables 
had  people  at  them.  "Don't  let  all  the  world  hear  that 
I  am  obliged  to  reprove  you!" 

"Reprove  me!    You!    A  woman!" 

"Yes,  I  felt  ashamed  of  you  just  now:  for  unfor- 
tunately people  know  that  you  are  Wolfram's  cou- 
sin .  .  ." 

"Unfortunately!  He  is  Hohenroda!  I  am  Osthofen. 
One  is  as  good  as  the  other." 

"You  owe  Mrs.  Lincoln  and  her  daughter  an  apology." 

He  waved  the  idea  aside  with  a  contemptuous  ges- 
ture of  refusal  and  looked  at  Mr.  Van  Brunt,  who  just 
then  issued  from  the  restaurant  with  a  waiter  and 
pointed  to  a  table  set  for  five  or  six  people. 


THE  DEVIL'S  CRADLE  189 

"Who  is  he  ?    Where  did  you  pick  him  up  ?" 

"He  is  in  the  diplomatic  service  and  has  a  post  at 
Bertholdsruhe,"  I  answered,  and  the  manner  of  my 
cousin  by  marriage  underwent  a  change. 

"One  never  knows  with  Americans,"  he  said,  "or  for 
that  matter  with  Englishmen  either." 

"What  doesn't  one  know?" 

"Whether  they  are  gentlemen." 

"Perhaps  to  judge  that,  one  must  be  a  gentleman 
oneself,"  I  suggested,  and  left  him.  And  we  did  not  ask 
him  to  join  us  at  lunch,  so  you  may  say  that  we  had 
his  head  on  a  charger  more  or  less.  At  any  rate  he  ate 
lunch  by  himself  at  his  table  set  for  three,  looked  as 
if  it  was  poisoning  him  and  the  moment  he  had  fin- 
ished sent  for  Rusla  and  rode  away.  We  all  breathed 
more  freely  when  we  had  seen  the  last  of  him. 


XXXV 

FOR  the  next  week  or  so  Max  and  I  were  with  the 
Americans  all  day  long.  Then  Mrs.  Lincoln  and 
Sally  left  for  Switzerland,  but  Mr.  Van  Brunt 
stayed  on  and  attached  himself  to  us.  I  saw  no  harm 
in  it.  As  a  rule  where  I  went  Max  went,  too.  Besides, 
Mr.  Van  Brunt  had  an  American  mind  about  the  re- 
lations between  men  and  women  and  I  had  an  English 
one  and  neither  of  us  dreamed  that  the  tongues  of  Ilges- 
heim  would  be  wagging  because  we  three  went  for 
walks  and  drives  together.  We  were  not  always  by 
ourselves.  Sometimes  we  met  the  Gutheim  contingent 


THE  DEVIL'S  CRADLE 

and  one  day  Eugenie  told  Mr.  Van  Brunt  about  the  ring 
that  had  not  arrived  yet  and  about  the  romantic  declara- 
tion of  love  that  waited  on  its  arrival.  One  night  there 
was  an  amateur  concert  at  the  Casino  which  Oscar 
Strauss  got  up  and  superintended  and  "by  request"  he 
sang  "Du  bist  wie  eine  Blume."  This  time  his  eyes 
traveled  in  the  right  direction  to  where  Emma  sat  with 
her  mother  and  sister,  her  own  eyes  modestly  cast  down. 
I  had  not  seen  much  of  any  of  them  except  Eugenie, 
but  I  bore  them  no  grudge  and  liked  them  better  than 
the  Osthofens.  The  Osthofens  were  at  the  concert,  too, 
quite  close  to  us,  and  so  were  Herr  Putzer  and  his 
pupils.  Hitherto,  Herr  Putzer  and  I  had  both  felt  that 
a  frosty  recognition  was  all  we  wanted  of  each  other, 
but  this  evening  he  came  up  to  me  in  an  interval  when 
people  were  moving  about  and  asked  after  the  Graf 
and  Grafin.  He  sent  them  his  duty  and  went  on  to 
inform  me  that  he  found  his  present  employers  highly 
sympathetic  and  his  pupils  pleasingly  responsive  to  his 
efforts.  I  said  I  was  glad  to  hear  it  and  hoped  inwardly 
that  he  would  go  away.  But  he  stayed  in  front  of  us, 
stared  hard  at  Mr.  Van  Brunt  and  finally  put  his  heels 
together,  bowed  and  introduced  himself.  Mr.  Van 
Brunt  returned  his  bow  gravely,  but  did  not  seem  to 
have  much  to  say.  Presently  Baron  v.  Osthofen  joined 
us  and  as  usual  addressed  me  in  the  tone  I  so  much 
disliked  and  had  hitherto  not  been  able  to  stop:  a  familiar 
and  a  sneering  tone  of  gallantry  that  I  had  done  nothing 
to  encourage. 

"When  does  Wolfram  come,  my  beautiful  cousin?"  he 
asked. 

"He  comes  next  week,"  I  said. 


THE  DEVIL'S  CRADLE  191 

"It  is  time,"  said  the  Baron,  and  Herr  Putzer  gave  a 
little  chuckle  of  assent.  The  manner  of  both  men  was 
offensive  and  I  was  so  angry  that  I  felt  myself  turning 
first  crimson  then  pale.  I  should  have  been  angry  even 
if  the  American  had  not  been  there:  but  he  sat  next 
to  me,  heard  what  the  Baron  said  and,  he  has  told  me 
since,  understood  his  meaning  as  well  as  I  did.  He 
has  also  told  me  since  what  he  thought  of  both  men, 
but  at  the  time  he  gave  no  sign  unless  a  new  touch  of 
chivalrous  regard  in  his  voice  was  a  sign  when  they 
took  themselves  off  at  last  and  my  friend  talked  to  me 
again.  I  was  down  for  a  song  in  the  second  part  of 
the  program  and  I  had  a  great  success,  which  Wilkins 
who  was  there  attributed  entirely  to  my  clothes  and 
general  appearance. 

"You  did  look  a  dream,  ma'am,  if  I  may  say  so,"  she 
told  me  afterwards.  "I'm  glad  I  persuaded  you  to  wear 
your  blue." 

My  "blue"  was  as  vivid  as  cornflower  and  as  thin 
and  crinkly  as  a  poppy  leaf.  It  suited  me  I  know,  but 
I  hoped  the  applause  I  got  was  called  forth  by  my  song 
and  not  by  my  raiment.  I  had  given  them  "The  Herding 
Song"  and  for  an  encore  I  went  back  to  the  nursery 
rhymes  that  had  gone  down  so  well  at  Eugenie's  Polter- 
abend. 

"She  sang  'chip  chip'  my  little  horse, 

Chip,  chip  again,  sor, 
How  many  miles  from  Dublin  town? 

Three  score  and  ten,  sor. 

Chip  chip  my  little  horse,  chip  chip  again,  sor. 
Can  I  get  there  by  candle  light? 

Yes  and  back  again,  sor." 


192  THE  DEVIL'S  CRADLE 

That  went  well  that  evening  too,  but  when  the  con- 
cert was  over  and  we  all  streamed  into  the  open  air  and 
the  summer  night  again  I  found  myself  next  to  my 
cousin  the  Baroness  and  she  almost  turned  her  back  on 
me.  I  could  not  think  why,  but  when  she  went  on  her 
husband  managed  to  slip  into  her  place  and  said  to  me 
in  an  undertone : 

"All  the  women,  including  my  wife,  are  ready  to  tear 
your  eyes  out,  my  most  beautiful  cousin." 

"Why  ?"  I  asked,  taken  aback,  for  I  had  not  noticed  it. 

"Because  all  the  men  are  in  love  with  you.  Some  of 
us  were  before  to-night  ...  I  for  instance  and  the 
American,  but  after  to-night  ..." 

In  the  crowd  he  managed  to  get  nearer  me  and  under 
pretext  of  protecting  me  from  the  crowd  he  took  my 
arm,  intending  to  draw  it  through  his  own.  But  I  jerked 
it  away.  I  disliked  him  so  much  that  I  always  disliked 
shaking  hands  with  him  and  I  was  determined  not  to 
take  his  arm.  What  he  had  said  was  as  banal  as  it 
was  untrue,  and  not  worth  answering.  Mr.  Van  Brunt 
and  Max  were  just  in  front  and  as  I  freed  my  arm  I 
hurried  on  and  joined  them. 

During  the  week  that  followed  I  saw  as  little  as  pos- 
sible of  the  Osthofens.  Max  and  I  were  out  of  the 
doctor's  hands  by  that  time  and  in  the  highest  spirits. 
We  foreswore  the  Brunnen  and  the  Badehaus  and  the 
time-tables  and  the  prohibitive  dietetic  rules.  We  did 
what  we  liked  and  ate  and  drank  what  we  liked,  went 
out  and  about  from  morning  till  night  and  enjoyed  life 
thoroughly.  Max  had  set  his  heart  on  learning  to  play 
lawn  tennis  and  whenever  we  had  an  hour  Mr.  Van 
Brunt  and  I  practiced  with  him  in  one  of  the  courts 


THE  DEVIL'S  CRADLE  193 

kept  up  by  the  Casino.  As  a  rule  we  had  the  midday 
meal  in  our  hotel  and  supper  somewhere  else;  and  on 
the  night  before  we  expected  Wolfram  we  walked  to 
Schloss  Selz  and  had  it  there. 

The  Schloss  was  an  old  ruin  set  high  enough  above 
Ilgesheim  to  have  a  view  and  far  enough  off  to  be  the 
objective  of  a  little  expedition.  When  you  had  eaten 
too  much  for  dinner  and  in  spite  of  that  partaken  of 
coffee  and  cake  in  the  afternoon  you  walked  to  Schloss 
Selz  in  the  hope  of  arriving  there  with  an  appetite  for 
supper  and  in  the  comfortable  assurance  of  finding  a 
good  one. 

"The  cooking  is  better  than  in  our  hotel,"  Frau  Gut- 
heim  said  when  she  had  explained  that  she  had  had  trouble 
with  that  organ  that  suffers  itself  so  sadly  and  easily 
to  be  overloaded  and  that  she  was  climbing  the  hill  to 
the  Schloss  in  order  to  give  it  tone  again.  We  had 
overtaken  the  Gutheim  party  suddenly  on  turning  a 
corner,  but  we  did  not  mean  to  be  tacked  on  to  them 
and  when  I  had  listened  politely  to  an  account  of  the 
herring  salad  and  vanilla  ice  that  had  probably  been 
the  cause  of  Frau  Gutheim's  little  upset  I  made  my 
escape  and  was  soon  ahead  of  her.  We  had  chosen  a 
lovely  night  for  our  walk:  one  of  those  beautiful  still 
nights  towards  the  end  of  June  when  the  daylight  lingers 
late  in  the  sky  and  turns  the  horizon  to  an  ethereal 
glowing  green;  when  the  air  is  scented  with  hay  and 
when  the  moon  rises  in  a  sky  of  stars  and  makes  all  the 
beauty  of  the  earth  visible  again.  I  wished  we  could 
have  taken  a  loaf  of  bread  and  a  flask  of  wine  into  the 
wilderness  and  eaten  them  there  in  silence:  at  least  my 
spirit  wished  it,  for  the  American  and  Max  and  I  were 


194  THE  DEVIL'S  CRADLE 

a  happy,  harmonious  trio  and  we  liked  being  by  our- 
selves. But  as  I  have  a  body  as  well  as  a  spirit  I  had 
to  confess  that  I  was  hungry  when  we  reached  the 
plateau  on  which  the  restaurant  was  placed  and  found 
a  table  reserved  for  us  and  supper  ready  for  serving. 
Max  and  I  were  Mr.  Van  Brunt's  guests  that  night  and 
he  had  left  nothing  to  chance,  but  had  come  here  in  the 
morning  and  given  his  orders.  We  were  happy  and 
we  were  sad,  for  this  little  fete  was  to  end  a  phase  of 
our  holiday  that  we  had  enjoyed.  To-morrow  Mr.  Van 
Brunt  had  to  return  to  Bertholdsruhe  and  though  we 
had  made  various  plans  for  meeting  again  we  should 
meet  under  difference  circumstances.  I  was  very  sorry 
that  he  had  to  go  without  seeing  Wolfram  as  I  felt  sure 
they  would  have  got  on  together.  They  were  very  un- 
like each  other  and  yet  they  had  something  in  common, 
I  thought,  as  I  looked  at  him  to-night.  He  had  been  more 
silent  than  usual  and  I  wondered  whether  he  had  any- 
thing on  his  mind  and  whether  I  should  ever  see  him 
again  so  easily  and  intimately. 

"I  wish  you  could  have  stayed  on  and  met  my  hus- 
band," I  said. 

He  made  no  answer,  but  stared  in  front  of  him  and 
I  was  astonished  by  his  irresponsiveness.  We  were  sit- 
ting at  the  table  by  ourselves,  for  Max  had  gone  across 
to  the  Gutheims  with  some  moth  he  wished  to  show 
Eduard  von  Gosen  who  was  an  ardent  collector  of  moths. 
As  we  sat  there  in  full  view  of  everyone  else  on  the 
plateau,  and  brilliantly  lighted  by  the  moon,  Baron  v. 
Osthofen  seemed  to  appear  from  nowhere  as  the  devil 
does  in  Faust  and  he  stood  in  front  of  us  with  an  insolent 


THE  DEVIL'S  CRADLE  195 

grin  on  his  face,  saluted  us  and  turned  away.    He  did  not 
say  a  word. 

"I  should  like  to  wring  that  man's  neck,"  said  Mr. 
Van  Brunt. 


XXXVI 

1WAS  surprised  next  day  to  receive  a  warm  invita- 
tion from  Eugenie  to  go  up  to  the  Schloss  again 
that  evening  and  have  supper  with  her  there.  I 
would  have  got  out  of  it  if  I  could,  but  I  had  not  been 
very  cordial  to  the  v.  Gosens  and  I  could  see  that  Eugenie 
would  be  hurt  if  I  refused. 

"We  were  at  the  Schloss  last  night,"  I  reminded  her, 
for,  of  course,  she  had  asked  Max,  too.  In  Germany  a 
boy  of  fourteen  is  not  as  much  separated  from  his  elders 
as  in  England  and  it  was  taken  for  granted  that  Max 
and  I  were  inseparables.  Sugary  people  called  him  my 
little  knight.  I  should  say  that  we  were  chums.  I 
knew  that  he  would  jump  at  Eugenie's  proposal  because 
he  and  Eduard  had  formed  an  ardent  friendship  that 
was  founded  on  the  corpses  of  beetles,  moths  and  but- 
terflies :  but  I  did  not  jump  myself. 

"There  will  be  moonlight  again  to-night,"  Eugenie  re- 
minded me.  "The  Schloss  and  the  forest  are  so  beauti- 
ful by  moonlight  that  one  can  see  them  two  nights 
running,  unless  one  is  without  poetry." 

I  could  not  tell  Eugenie  that  the  Gutheim  family  did 
not  blend  well  with  moonlight  and  that  I  liked  to  take 
them  separately,  and  as  I  had  no  other  reason  for  re- 


196  THE  DEVIL'S  CRADLE 

fusing  her  I  said  we  would  go.  Max  was  delighted, 
strapped  on  a  green  tin  of  the  largest  size  and  departed 
with  Eduard  directly  after  dinner.  He  said  that  the 
thought  of  the  treasures  he  was  about  to  add  to  his 
collection  helped  him  to  bear  the  separation  from  Mr. 
Van  Brunt  which  he  had  felt  very  much;  and  looking 
at  me  wistfully,  he  asked  what  could  be  done  for  me 
to  console  me  for  the  loss  of  our  American  friend.  I 
could  not  suggest  anything  at  the  moment,  but  he  made 
off  with  an  air  of  mystery  and  returned  a  little  later 
carrying  a  large  paper  bag  of  bon-bons  which  he  had 
bought  with  his  own  money  and  presented  to  me  when 
1  was  sitting  on  the  veranda  of  the  hotel.  The  Ost- 
hofens  and  many  other  people  were  present  and  Eugenie 
who  sat  next  to  me  asked  if  it  was  my  birthday.  I 
said  it  was  not  and  hoped  she  would  ask  no  more  ques- 
tions; but  her  curiosity  was  like  the  Elephant  Child's, 
insatiable. 

"Your  wedding-day  then,"  she  suggested,  "but  no. 
That  must  be  later." 

"Much  later,"  I  said  hastily.  "I  hope  Wolfram  will 
be  here  for  that." 

"We  are  both  very  sad  to-day,"  explained  Max  in  his 
clear  youthful  voice.  "We  have  said  good-bye  to  Mr. 
Van  Brunt." 

I  saw  the  Osthofens  exchange  glances  and  the  Baron 
was  not  content  with  that,  but  looked  round  as  if  he 
expected  to  find  on  other  faces  some  response  to  the 
offensive  jocularity  that  angered  me  on  his  own. 

"We  were  both  devoted  to  Mr.  Van  Brunt,"  pursued 
Max  with  a  sigh.  "When  we  leave  Ilgesheim  we.  are. 
going  to  see  him  at  Bertholdsruhe," 


THE  DEVIL'S  CRADLE  197 

"Saperlot!"  cried  the  Baron,  and  leaning  over  so  that 
he  could  whisper  to  me,  he  said:  "Perhaps  my  cousin 
Hohenroda  will  have  a  word  to  say  to  that." 

He  spoke  in  an  undertone,  but  I  am  sure  that  his  wife 
and  others  heard  him.  Certainly  Eugenie  did,  for  she 
looked  at  the  Baron  as  if  he  had  been  one  of  Eduard's 
largest  insects  and  said  in  her  downright  uncivilized  way : 

"Karen  is  English  and  Mr.  Van  Brunt  is  American. 
They  have  different  ideas  from  the  likes  of  us." 

The  Baron  twirled  his  mustaches  and  looked  daggers 
at  Eugenie.  He  did  not  enjoy  being  coupled  with  a 
Jewess  in  that  way.  Nor  did  his  wife.  She  put  her 
embroidery  down  and  tried  to  stare  Eugenie  into  feel- 
ing humiliated  and  uncomfortable.  Eugenie,  however, 
told  me  afterwards  that  for  Eduard's  sake  she  had  tried 
to  make  friends  with  the  v.  Osthofens,  but  they  had 
consistently  repulsed  her  so  she  naturally  took  an  op- 
portunity of  plucking  a  crow  with  them.  I  did  not  enjoy 
the  occasion  at  all  and  would  have  fled  if  I  could. 

"We  certainly  have  our  own  ideas  about  what  is  be- 
coming in  a  young  married  woman,"  said  the  Baroness 
in  a  sour  overbearing  voice. 

"The  likes  of  us  are  very  narrow  and  provincial," 
said  Eugenie  and  her  presumption  in  again  coupling 
herself  with  Osthofens  and  in  -charging  them  with 
being  kleinstadtisch  or  provincial  put  the  husband  and 
wife  into  a  fury.  If  glances  killed  we  should  have  been 
as  dead  as  Eduard's  beetles  there  and  then:  but  I  com- 
posed myself  as  well  as  I  could  with  bon-bons.  Max 
understood  as  much  and  as  little  as  was  to  be  expected 
and  Eugenie  had  a  hide  it  took  more  than  glances  to 
penetrate.  So  they  went  at  it  hammer  and  tongs  al- 


198  THE  DEVIL'S  CRADLE 

though  everyone  near  them  could  hear  .what  they  said. 
They  were  very  funny  and  extraordinarily  rude.  The 
Osthofens  reminded  Eugenie  that  they  were  traveled 
people  and  had  been  to  Switzerland  and  Italy :  therefore 
they  argued  that  they  could  not  be  kleinstadtisch:  but 
Eugenie  retorted  that  if  you  traveled  the  world  over  in 
an  armor  of  conceit  and  arrogance  you  would  return 
no  better  than  you  set  out.  The  answer  to  this  was  that 
people  of  Jewish  birth  could  not  judge  of  what  obtained 
in  a  higher  sphere  than  their  own,  and  that  as  everyone 
knew,  Oriental  blood  flowed  warmly  in  the  veins  even 
in  a  temperate  climate.  Eugenie  said  she  would  rather 
have  blood  in  her  veins  than  vinegar.  The  Baron  snig- 
gered as  if  he  approved  of  this  dig  at  his  wife  and  the 
Baroness,  getting  up,  said  that  for  her  part  she  preferred 
not  to  bandy  words  in  public  with  a  lady  who  was 
not  on  her  visiting-list.  Both  the  Osthofens  then  left 
the  veranda  and  peace  was  restored.  They  were  very 
generally  disliked  and  I  think  those  people  who  had 
heard  the  passage  of  arms  were  on  Eugenie's  side  and 
mine.  But  it  had  been  a  disturbing  quarter  of  an  hour 
and  as  soon  as  I  could  I,  too,  left  the  veranda  and  went 
up  to  my  own  room  to  unbend  my  mind  over  a  book. 
I  certainly  did  miss  Mr.  Van  Brunt,  but  Eugenie  had 
been  perfectly  right  when  she  told  the  Osthofens  that 
Anglo-Saxons  could  have  friendships  over  which  there 
was  no  trail  of  sentiment.  When  I  was  twelve  I  was 
in  love  with  a  little  boy  I  met  at  a  dancing-class ;  and 
when  I  was  seventeen  I  was  in  love  with  Gerald  du 
Maurier  across  the  footlights;  and  after  that  I  was  in 
love  with  no  one  till  I  met  Wolfram  and  married  him. 
He  was  coming  either  that  day  or  the  next  and  I  longed 


THE  DEVIL'S  CRADLE  199 

for  our  reunion  eagerly:  so  that  even  Mr.  Van  Brunt's 
departure  became  a  mild  regret  in  comparison  with  the 
great  happiness  awaiting  me.  I  was  as  proud,  too,  of 
Max's  recovery  as  if  I  had  brought  it  about  myself  and 
I  pictured  the  pleasure  I  should  see  in  my  husband's 
eyes  when  he  saw  his  son.  We  three  were  to  have  three 
weeks  together  in  Ilgesheim  and  I  thought  it  would  be 
the  happiest  holiday  I  had  ever  known.  I  rather  wished 
the  Osthofens  had  not  been  in  the  place,  but  it  would 
not  be  necessary  to  see  much  of  them.  Towards  the 
end  of  our  time  there  was  to  be  a  gala  and  a  dance  at 
the  Casino  and  I  wanted  to  stay  for  that  and  to  dance 
with  Wolfram  again.  I  had  not  done  so  since  the  dance 
on  Eugenie's  Polterabend,  for  we  had  not  gone  out  dur- 
ing the  winter  because  of  Max's  illness.  Dances  had 
been  given  in  Reichenstadt  and  we  had  been  asked  to 
them,  but  it  would  have  meant  putting  up  for  the  night 
in  a  hotel  and  we  had  not  felt  inclined  to  leave  the  boy. 

As  I  was  thinking  of  these  things  the  afternoon  post 
arrived  and  brought  me  a  letter  from  Wolfram  telling 
me  that  he  would  come  the  following  day;  and  I  had 
hardly  read  it  when  Eugenie,  breatheless  with  excite- 
ment, rushed  into  my  room  and  told  me  that  the  same 
post  had  brought  the  long-expected  ring  and  that  Emma 
knew  it  had  come,  but  was  being  rather  tiresome. 

"In  what  way?"  I  asked,  although  I  could  never 
imagine  Emma  being  anything  but  tiresome. 

"She  now  says  that  she  has  searched  her  heart  care- 
fully and  doubts  whether  the  love  for  Oscar  that  she 
finds  there  is  sufficiently  glowing  to  last  through  life. 
She  says  that  some  people  are  doomed  to  celibacy  and 
that  she  may  be  one  of  them." 


200  THE  DEVIL'S  CRADLE 

"It  doesn't  matter  much  what  she  says  to  you  as  long 
as  she  says  'Yes'  to  Herr  Strauss,"  I  suggested. 

But  Eugenie,  who  was  in  a  tiresome  mood,  too,  refused 
to  be  comforted. 


XXXVII 

WHEN  Eugenie  asked  me  to  have  supper  quietly 
with  Eduard  and  her  at  the  Schloss  I  under- 
stood that  we  were  to  be  a  party  of  four. 
Eduard  and  Max  were  to  go  forth  early  with  their  tin 
boxes  and  their  green  nets,  and  Eugenie  and  I  were 
to  walk  up  the  hill  in  the  late  afternoon  and  meet  them 
on  the  top.  I  knew  Wolfram  would  not  mind  my  doing 
this,  but  I  knew  that  he  did  not  wish  me  to  associate 
more  than  I  could  help  with  the  Gutheims.  His  feeling 
about  Jews  was  mediaeval  and  his  manner  to  them  ar- 
rogant in  the  extreme.  I  had  seen  that  when  I  first 
met  him  and  he  had  not  changed  since.  When  I  told 
him  how  much  more  enlightened  we  were  in  England 
he  would  remind  me  that  I  was  not  in  England  now 
and  that  if  I  wanted  to  know  what  he  felt  about  the 
Semitic  question  I  might  read  the  first  act  of  The 
Merchant  of  Venice  and  mark  the  scene  between  Shy- 
lock  and  Antonio.  It  was  no  use  to  tell  him  that  Antonio 
came  off  second  best  in  that  scene  and  that  it  was  the 
Jew  who  had  dignity  and  passion.  Wolfram  would  only 
repeat  that  he  did  not  like  Jews  and  if  he  could  would 
send  them  bag  and  baggage  back  to  Palestine.  So  when 
I  was  walking  up  the  hill  with  Eugenie  and  she  told 


THE  DEVIL'S  CRADLE  201 

me  that  her  father  and  mother  were  ahead  of  us  and 
that  Emma  and  Herr  Strauss  were  coming  on  behind 
I  felt  a  little  disappointed  and  annoyed.  I  was  going 
to  be  let  in  for  a  long  intimate  evening  with  the  whole 
party  instead  of  a  quiet  supper  with  Eduard  and  Eugenie 
only:  and  possibly  for  the  celebration  of  a  Verlobung. 
There  would  be  champagne  and  speeches  and  general 
hilarity  if  Emma  on  her  way  to  the  supper-party  ceased 
to  be  tiresome  and  accepted  Oscar's  ring.  And  next 
day,  I  should  have  to  tell  Wolfram  about  it  and  he,  in 
his  way,  would  be  tiresome,  too,  and  refuse  to  take  any 
interest  in  the  affair  or  go  to  the  formal  and  highly 
festive  speech-making,  wine-bibbing  orgy  which  would 
certainly  take  place  and  to  which  we  should  certainly 
be  invited.  However,  I  could  not  show  Eugenie  I  was 
annoyed  because  she  was  in  one  of  her  expansive  moods, 
very  friendly  to  me,  excited  about  the  coming  event  and 
bubbling  over  with  reminiscences  of  her  set-to  with  the 
v.  Osthofens.  We  had  it  all  over  again  as  we  walked 
up-hill  and  I  was  expected  to  congratulate  Eugenie  on 
the  enormous  tact  she  had  shown  in  not  saying  things 
that  she  might  quite  well  have  said.  For  instance,  she 
might  have  brought  up  certain  unsavory  scandals  in 
which  the  Baron  had  played  a  leading  part  and  which 
were  probably  known  to  everyone  in  Reichenstadt  ex- 
cept his  wife. 

"But  perhaps  they  are  not  true,"  I  suggested. 

"You  have  only  to  look  at  him,"  exclaimed  Eugenie. 
"Whenever  I  see  that  man  I  say  Pfui  to  myself.  For 
Eduard's  sake  I  would  have  controlled  myself  and  taken 
his  hand.  Besides,  there  is  nothing  against  the  Baroness 
except  that  she  is  as  sour  as  vinegar  and  too  arrogant 


202  THE  DEVIL'S  CRADLE 

to  breathe.    But  after  to-day  friendly  relations  have  be- 
come impossible." 

I  knew  Eugenie  well  enough  by  this  time  to  know  that 
if  the  Osthofens  threw  her  their  handkerchief  to-morrow 
she  would  run  to  pick  it  up,  and  that  in  spite  of  saying 
Pfui  to  herself  about  the  Baron  she  would  claim  ac- 
quaintance with  him  whenever  she  got  the  chance.  So 
I  was  rather  glad  when  she  exhausted  the  subject  and 
made  a  few  perfunctory  remarks  about  the  beauty  of 
the  evening  and  the  soothing  effect  of  landscape  on  the 
poetical  temperament.  Perhaps  I  had  become  silent  and 
irresponsive.  It  certainly  jarred  on  me  to  travel  over 
every  step  of  the  sordid  battle  of  the  afternoon  when 
the  evening  was  descending  on  us  in  surroundings  of 
matchless  beauty.  The  setting  sun  had  set  the  sky  on 
fire  and  the  sky  threw  a  warm  glow  on  the  trunks  of 
the  trees.  Sometimes  we  walked  with  forest  on  either 
side  of  us  and  sometimes  we  reached  a  place  that  com- 
manded a  fine  view  of  hill  country,  of  plain  and  winding 
river,  and  of  the  roofs  of  Ilgesheim  shining  golden  like 
the  roofs  of  Zion.  In  one  such  place  we  sat  down  for 
a  moment  and  I  could  have  wished  I  was  alone.  But 
Eugenie  after  rattling  off  several  adjectives  such  as 
wunderschon,  herrlich,  reizend  began  to  talk  of  what 
really  interested  her  and  told  me  about  the  ring  that 
Oscar  Strauss  might  at  this  very  moment  be  placing 
upon  Emma's  finger.  There  were  no  diamonds  in  it 
because  Emma  had  once  said  in  Oscar's  hearing  that 
she  preferred  pearls  and  that  a  black  pearl  was  her 
favorite  stone.  The  delay  had  been  caused  by  the 
jeweler  who  said  it  was  not  easy  to  find  three  black 
pearls  that  matched  exactly  and  were  flawless.  The  ring 


THE  DEVIL'S  CRADLE  203 

had  cost  .  .  .  Eugenie  hardly  liked  to  own  how  much 
it  had  cost.  I  had  to  listen  to  all  that  and  to  a  forecast 
of  Emma's  trousseau,  furniture  and  wedding  festivities 
and  to  an  itinerary  of  their  wedding- journey  which 
Emma,  when  in  a  contrary  mood,  had  said  should  take 
her  to  Japan.  As  Eugenie  ran  on,  talking  what  Wilkins 
called  nineteen  to  the  dozen,  I  heard  footsteps  stealthily 
approaching,  and  looking  round,  I  saw  the  tip  of  a  pink 
upstanding  plume  that  decorated  Emma's  smartest  hat 
with  the  interrogatory  touch  proper  to  the  summer  of 
1914.  I  sat  still  and  said  nothing.  A  minute  or  two 
later  Eugenie  and  I  continued  our  walk  and  when  we  were 
nearly  at  the  top  of  the  hill  I  told  her  what  I  had  seen. 
She  was  agitated  to  tears  and  directly  she  saw  her  father 
and  mother,  told  them  what  had  happened  and  assured 
them  that  Oscar  had  probably  just  proposed  when  I 
saw  the  tip  of  the  feather,  that  the  young  pair  wished 
for  a  few  blissful  moments  by  themselves  in  the  beau- 
tiful spot  we  were  presumably  about  to  vacate,  that  they 
had  doubtless  hidden  in  the  trees  and  watched  us  go, 
and  that  when  Papa  and  Mamma  next  beheld  their  child 
she  would  be  a  happy  bride.  Herr  Gutheim  said  jocu- 
larly that  in  any  case  he  would  order  a  good  supper 
since  we  should  all  want  one,  either  in  honor  of  a  happy 
occasion  or  to  support  ourselves  if  things  went  wrong, 
and  Frau  Gutheim  said  nothing  could  go  wrong  and  that 
if  it  did  she  would  soon  bring  Emma  to  reason.  Both 
the  husband  and  wife  made  me  extremely  welcome  and 
I  felt  that  they  wished  bygones  to  be  bygones  and  that 
I  as  a  Christian  ought  to  accept  the  olive  branch  they 
proffered  whenever  they  had  a  chance.  Emma  was  the 
only  one  of  the  family  I  had  ever  actually  disliked  and 


204  THE  DEVIL'S  CRADLE 

she  was  now  about  to  be  removed  to  a  home  of  her 
own.  I  was  vindictive  enough  to  hope  that  Oscar 
Strauss,  though  small  in  stature,  would  be  strong  in  spirit 
and  hold  his  own  with  his  wife  when  she  went  into 
tantrums. 

The  supper  was  ordered,  Eduard  and  Max  had  joined 
us  and  we  had  all  owned  to  being  colossally  hungry,  when 
our  turtle-doves  appeared  and  there  was  such  a  scene 
of  billing  and  cooing  that  I  can  hardly  tell  you  who 
kissed  whom  and  who  omitted  to  kiss  anybody.  I  had 
Emma's  arms  round  my  neck  at  one  moment  and 
Eduard's  Kaiser  mustache  tickled  my  hand  at  another 
and  everyone  kissed  Max  and  I  kissed  Herr  Gutheim; 
and  tears  streamed  down  all  the  female  cheeks  except 
mine  and  Frau  Gutheim  said  it  was  a  hard  day  when 
a  mother  saw  herself  deserted  by  her  remaining  child, 
but  that  she  must  resign  herself  and  find  happiness  in 
looking  on;  and  Emma  said  that  nothing  but  the  most 
eloquent  persuasion  on  Oscar's  part  would  have  con- 
vinced her  that  she  ought  to  leave  her  beloved  parents 
to  a  lonely  old  age;  and  Eugenie  took  umbrage  at  this 
and  said  that  parents  whose  married  daughters  were 
constantly  in  and  out  could  not  be  called  lonely,  and 
that  if  Oscar  and  Emma  were  as  dutiful  and  attentive 
as  Eduard  and  Eugenie  .  .  .  There  was  nearly  a  row 
again,  but  luckily  some  champagne  arrived  and  we  all 
began  to  drink  healths  and  wish  the  betrothed  couple 
and  all  their  relations  health  and  happiness.  Moreover, 
the  supper  was  excellent  and  our  appetites  were  not  in 
the  least  blunted  by  the  romantic  agitation  of  our  feel- 
ings. We  ate,  drank  and  were  merry  and  we  drank  our 
toasts  in  lightness  of  heart,  taking  health  and  happiness 


THE  DEVIL'S  CRADLE  205 

for  granted.  The  little  clouds  in  our  sky  were  as  small 
as  specks  in  the  general  fair  weather  and  now  that  Max 
was  well  I  looked  forward  to  a  future  as  golden  in  its 
promise  as  the  sunset  sky  had  been.  I  was  dreamily 
thinking  of  the  morrow  and  of  Wolfram's  arrival  when 
a  cry  from  Max  startled  me  and  turning  round,  I  saw 
my  husband  standing  there  and  staring  at  our  table. 
He  had  come  twelve  hours  sooner  than  he  said  he  would 
and  he  looked  disturbed  and  pale.  At  first  I  thought 
he  was  vexed  to  find  me  with  the  Gutheims  and  possibly 
he  was.  But  a  vexation  of  that  caliber  belonged  to  the 
life  the  deed  of  that  day  ended  for  our  generation.  He 
brought  the  news  of  the  Serajevo  murders  and  it  fell 
on  our  feast  like  the  writing  on  the  wall. 


XXXVIII 

DAD  has  told  me  since  that  in  England  most  people 
heard  of  the  Serajevo  murders  much  as  they 
heard  of  those  other  Serbian  royal  murders 
years  ago.  There  was  a  murmur  of  horror,  but  the 
horror  was  of  the  kind  felt  for  a  deed  that  cannot  affect 
you  and  that  is  too  remote  to  be  really  grasped.  The 
very  name  of  Serajevo  was  forgotten  in  a  few  days  and 
everyone's  attention  was  concentrated,  as  we  all  know, 
on  Ireland  and  the  militant  suffragettes.  But  in  Ger- 
many it  was  very  different.  At  least  it  was  different  in 
my  milieu  where  nearly  every  man  was  in  the  army  and 
knew  that  these  murders  would  probably  bring  on  the 
war  expected  and  eagerly  desired.  Wolfram  talked 


206  THE  DEVIL'S  CRADLE 

gravely  about  it,  but  he  took  his  country's  view,  that  a 
war  was  necessary  for  various  reasons  and  that  it  would 
be  a  short  victorious  one.  He  explained  to  me  that 
Germany  was  in  a  bad  way  financially  in  spite  of  her 
commercial  prosperity  and  that  she  could  not  set  her 
house  in  order  unless  she  reduced  her  expenses;  but 
that  she  could  not  reduce  them  until  she  had  crushed 
France  and  Russia  and  exacted  big  indemnities  from 
them.  I  said  this  seemed  hard  on  France  and  Russia, 
but  he  could  not  see  it.  Like  all  Germans,  he  was  pos- 
sessed of  the  idea  that  the  world  ought  to  be  Germanized 
for  its  good  whether  it  liked  it  or  not ;  and  that  Germany 
did  not  possess  a  fair  share  of  the  world  and  must  help 
herself  at  the  sword's  point  to  all  it  needed.  The  way 
he  talked  made  me  feel  quite  creepy  and  I  asked  him 
if  he  thought  England  and  America  would  be  drawn  in. 
He  said  this  was  most  unlikely  as  England  had  her 
hands  tied  by  her  internal  affairs  and  America  did  not 
care  what  happened  in  Europe.  We  had  this  talk  as 
we  walked  home  together  from  the  Gutheims'  supper- 
party  that  had  broken  up  soon  after  Wolfram  appeared. 
His  news  had  cast  a  gloom  over  it  and  I  heard  Emma 
whisper  to  her  sister  that  Graf  Wolfram  had  shown  a 
want  of  tact  in  bringing  them  such  tidings  on  such  an 
occasion.  As  if  Wolfram  could  have  guessed  that  we 
sat  there  to  celebrate  an  occasion!  He  had  only  seen 
Wilkins  who  told  him  where  I  was  and  did  not  even 
mention  that  I  was  with  the  Gutheims.  I  expected  to 
be  called  to  account  for  joining  their  party,  but  Wolfram 
was  too  happy  about  Max  and  too  excited  about  Serajevo 
to  dwell  on  trifles.  Besides,  he  gave  me  all  the  credit 
of  Max's  recovery  and  said  he  owed  his  boy's  life  to 


THE  DEVIL'S  CRADLE  207 

me  and  that  he  and  Max  could  never  love  and  cherish 
me  as  I  deserved.  He  said  this  in  Max's  presence  as 
if  he  wished  the  boy  to  mark  it  and  I  shall  always  think 
that  the  idea  of  war  was  heavy  on  his  mind  and  that 
he  wanted  his  son  to  wake  to  the  notion  that  he  and 
I  might  be  left  without  him  some  day.  But  it  was  only 
for  a  moment  that  he  struck  this  melancholy  note.  The 
time  that  followed  was  as  gay  and  happy  as  I  had  hoped 
it  would  be  and  we  three  were  inseparable  from  morn- 
ing till  night.  Wolfram  had  brought  his  little  car  with 
him  and  he  taught  both  Max  and  me  to  drive  it:  for 
there  were  broad,  well-made  roads  out  of  Ilgesheim 
where  it  was  safe  for  novices  to  practice.  We  were  out 
all  day  and  every  day,  only  coming  back  to  the  hotel  for 
supper  and  we  saw  very  little  of  the  people  we  knew 
there.  But  we  could  not  altogether  avoid  the  Osthofens 
and  whenever  we  were  with  them  our  tranquil  atmos- 
phere became  disturbed.  They  did  not  quarrel  with 
you  violently  one  moment  and  feel  affection  for  you  the 
next  like  the  Gutheims.  Their  attitude  was  inexplicably 
hostile  to  us  all  and  especially  hostile  towards  me. 
Wolfram  said  bluntly  that  they  were  jealous  of  us  and 
I  suppose  he  was  right.  We  were  happy  together  and 
they  were  not,  we  had  youth,  money  and  good  looks, 
a  high  place  in  the  society  that  hemmed  in  their  world 
and  an  honest  name.  When  you  possess  all  these  things 
you  take  them  for  granted  and  if  you  have  a  grain  of 
humor  you  do  not  count  them  as  virtues  but  as  luck. 
I  cannot  see  now  why  the  sight  of  us  should  have  acted 
like  poison  on  the  Osthofens  so  that  they  could  neither 
leave  us  alone  nor  treat  us  pleasantly.  After  supper 
every  evening  when  most  people  sat  about  on  the  big 


208  THE  DEVIL'S  CRADLE 

veranda  playing  games  or  otherwise  amusing  themselves, 
Wolfram's  cousins  always  came  close  to  us  and  some- 
times proposed  a  game  of  bridge.  But  after  accepting 
their  proposal  once  or  twice  we  decided  we  would  not 
play  again.  The  Baron  had  not  the  manners  of  a  gentle- 
man at  cards.  He  lost  his  temper  when  the  game  went 
against  him  and  invariably  accused  his  partner  of  doing 
the  wrong  thing.  He  looked  over  his  neighbor's  hand 
when  he  could  (I  saw  him  do  it)  and  he  made  mistakes 
in  the  score  unless  you  watched  him  carefully.  I'm 
pretty  wide-awake  at  cards  because  Dad  has  trained  me 
to  be  ever  since  I  was  a  child,  and  I'm  used  to  play 
quickly  as  most  Germans  do.  In  short,  the  Baron  found 
that  his  beautiful  cousin  was  a  match  for  him,  and  loved 
her  less  than  ever  in  consequence.  One  night  he  re- 
voked and  I  noticed  it  and  exacted  the  penalty  when 
the  round  was  over.  He  denied  it  and  tried  to  shovel 
the  tricks  together  before  I  could  convict  him.  When 
I  prevented  that  he  went  pea-green  with  fury  and  said 
in  a  loud  voice  that  it  served  him  right  for  playing  with 
women  and  that,  as  everyone  knew,  women  did  not  play 
fairly. 

"But  it  was  you  who  revoked,"  I  pointed  out  and 
everyone  heard  that,  too. 

"It  pleases  you  to  say  so." 

Well,  by  that  time  the  cards  were  gathered  together 
and  the  Baron  was  shuffling  them  with  annoyed  energy. 
He  was  smoking,  too,  and  it  is  astonishing  how  a  man's 
cigar  can  be  made  to  express  his  feelings.  Wolfram 
looked  angrier  than  I  had  ever  seen  him  and  that  is 
saying  a  good  deal,  so  I  swallowed  my  own  wrath  and 
tried  to  treat  the  matter  lightly.  I  did  not  want  the  two 


THE  DEVIL'S  CRADLE  209 

men  to  fly  at  each  other's  throats  and  they  seemed  to 
be  on  the  brink  of  it.  I  am  sure  the  Baroness  thought 
so,  too,  for  she  tried  to  cast  oil  on  the  water  by  saying 
that  women,  having  more  sense  than  men,  treated  a  game 
as  a  game  and  not  as  a  question  of  life  and  death.  I 
could  not  take  her  point  of  view  and  said  so ;  and  while 
we  were  arguing  Wolfram  in  one  of  his  black  silent 
moods  dealt  the  cards  for  the  new  round.  It  gave  the 
Baron  and  Baroness  the  rubber  and  they  were  ready  to 
go  on  to  another.  But  Wolfram  refused  and  next 
evening  when  cards  were  proposed  he  refused  again. 
That  seemed  to  infuriate  the  Baron  and  he  stood  there 
staring  at  us,  his  mean,  evil  face  working  with  offended 
malice. 

"Perhaps  you  are  wise,"  he  said  to  Wolfram  and  the 
sneer  in  his  voice  could  not  be  overlooked.  Wolfram 
seemed  to  me  to  do  just  what  a  cock  in  a  poultry  yard 
does  when  another  cock  spars  at  him.  All  his  feathers 
fluffed  with  indignation  and  you  could  see  that  if  his 
cousin  wanted  battle  he  would  get  it.  But  I  did  not 
want  a  battle  over  me  between  two  German  officers. 
I  had  heard  too  many  stories  of  what  it  might  mean  and 
I  had  heard  the  story  that  nearly  deprived  the  Baron 
of  his  uniform.  He  had  managed  to  escape  public  dis- 
grace, but  a  good  many  people  looked  askance  at  him 
in  spite  of  his  old  name  and  his  impenetrable  arrogance. 
Perhaps  he  had  fired  a  moment  too  soon:  perhaps  he 
had  not.  The  point  had  been  disputed  and  he  had  been 
given  the  benefit  of  the  doubt.  But  as  I  looked  at  him 
and  saw  the  chill  malevolence  of  his  eyes  and  the  thin 
cruelty  of  his  lips,  I  could  believe  him  capable  of  any- 
thing. 


210  THE  DEVIL'S  CRADLE 

"We  do  not  care  to  sit  over  cards  on  these  fine  summer 
nights,"  I  said.  "We  are  going  for  a  little  walk." 

"Take  the  goods  the  gods  provide  thee,"  he  quoted. 
"Last  week  the  friend,  this  week  the  husband.  I  have 
always  said  that  my  beautiful  cousin  understood  the  art 
of  life." 

"Osthofen!" 

"Hohenroda!" 

They  were  at  each  other  now.  Wolfram  had  risen  and 
his  tone  was  threatening  though  low.  For  we  were 
within  hearing  of  other  people  and  some  of  them  were 
eying  us  curiously.  But  I  had  risen,  too,  and  I  man- 
aged to  get  between  the  two  men  and  to  stop  further 
mischief  for  the  time  being. 

"Good-night,  Baron,"  I  said.  "How  clever  of  you  to 
quote  Dryden.  I'm  sorry  you  are  disappointed  of  your 
game." 


XXXIX 

THE  gala  and  the  dance  in  honor  of  the  Grand 
Duke's  birthday  were  put  off  on  account  of  the 
Serajevo  murders,  but  a  small  informal  dance 
took  place  at  the  Casino  two  days  before  we  were  to 
go  back  to  Hohenroda.     I  can  see  now  that  we  were 
one  and  all  in  a  tense  troubled  mood  and  that  the  air 
was  heavy  and  lowering  as  it  is  just  before  a  thunder- 
storm.    Outwardly  we  were  rather  quiet,  but  inwardly 
we  were  on  edge.    The  Gutheims  had  a  dinner  in  honor 
of  Emma's  Verlobung,  but  Wolfram  and  I  did  not  go 


THE  DEVIL'S  CRADLE  2n 

to  it.  Wolfram  was  tiresome  as  I  knew  he  would  be, 
and  said  nothing  would  induce  him  to  sit  down  and  feast 
with  twenty-nine  Jews  and  Jewesses  and  Eduard  von 
Gosen.  Luckily  the  Grand  Duke  summoned  him  about 
that  time  and  we  went  to  Bertholdsruhe  for  two  nights 
and  took  Max  with  us.  We  came  back  on  the  day  of 
the  dance  but  not  in  the  mood  for  dancing.  A  great 
deal  more  was  known  at  the  court  of  Bertholdsruhe 
than  at  the  watering-place  and  the  Grand  Duke  had  told 
Wolfram  that  there  would  be  war.  Quietly  the  mon- 
strous organization  was  being  got  ready  so  that  the  final 
word  should  set  it  in  motion  and  send  it  forth  to  conquer 
and  destroy.  I  came  back  to  Ilgesheim  with  its  menace 
heavy  on  my  soul,  for  though  Wolfram  would  go  with 
it  I  could  not  help  thinking  of  its  victims :  the  unsuspect- 
ing innocent  people  that  were  to  be  crushed  because  they 
were  in  the  way  of  Germany.  Wolfram  said  that  there 
was  no  alternative  and  that  if  the  enemies  of  Germany 
gave  in  quietly  and  completely  there  would  be  a  swift 
German  peace  and  a  German  millennium. 

"But  why  should  everyone  give  in  to  Germany?" 

"Because  she  is  strong." 

It  was  no  use  to  tell  him  that  Might  was  not  Right. 
He  said  that  in  war  and  politics  it  was  and  that  women 
did  not  understand  such  matters  and  should  not  meddle 
with  them.  I  said  that  if  women  managed  the  world 
the  men  in  it  would  not  be  facing  each  other  to-day 
armed  to  the  teeth  while  behind  them  the  children  of 
the  race  festered  in  slums  and  misery.  Then  we  went 
to  the  Casino  together,  I  in  silver  and  he  in  bluish  gray 
and  we  tried  to  forget  everything  except  the  magic  of 
the  Strauss  waltz  and  the  pleasure  of  dancing  with  each 


212  THE  DEVIL'S  CRADLE 

other  again.  It  was  the  old  Blue  Danube  that  they  began 
as  we  entered  the  room  and  we  both  remembered  that 
it  had  been  the  Blue  Danube  more  than  a  year  ago  when 
we  met  in  the  house  of  Eugenie's  Uncle  Marcus  and  as 
Germans  say,  looked  deep  into  each  other's  eyes.  I 
had  not  thought  that  Baron  v.  Osthofen  would  molest 
me  after  his  behavior  at  cards  the  other  night,  but  the 
first  time  that  Wolfram  and  I  took  breath  his  cousin 
came  up  to  us  and  asked  me  to  have  a  turn  with  him. 

"No,"  I  said,  "I  dance  the  Blue  Danube  with  Wolfram 
and  with  no  one  else." 

I  did  not  know  that  I  was  giving  the  man  mortal 
offense,  but  I  saw  that  he  looked  as  wicked  as  a  devil 
when  I  refused  him. 

"You  danced  it  with  Mr.  Van  Brunt  last  week,"  he 
said,  "but  I  suppose  that  the  American  has  a  peculiar 
place  in  your  regard." 

"I  did  not  dance  with  Mr.  Van  Brunt  or  anyone  else 
last  week,"  I  said.  "I  did  not  dance  once  while  Wolfram 
was  away." 

"You  hear,"  said  the  man,  addressing  Wolfram.  "Your 
wife  is  pleased  to  call  me  a  liar." 

Well,  he  was  a  liar:  but  I  would  have  called  him  an 
archbishop  if  I  had  understood  what  his  livid  lips  meant 
and  Wolfram's  stately  contemptuous  bow, 

"Come  and  dance,"  I  said  to  my  husband,  and  we 
danced  together  again  till  the  music  stopped:  danced  as 
lovers  do  who  find  the  minutes  golden  and  seize  them 
while  they  pass. 

"That  was  a  dance  to  remember,"  I  said  breathlessly 
when  we  finished. 


THE  DEVIL'S  CRADLE  213 

"It  was  a  dance  to  remember,"  said  Wolfram,  and  his 
eyes  had  a  question  in  them  as  they  met  mine. 

"It  was  a  clumsy  lie,"  I  said.  "I  walked  and  drove 
and  talked  with  my  American:  but  I  didn't  dance  with 
him.  I  should  have  done  so  if  I  had  felt  inclined.  Why 
not?" 

"Why  not  ?"  repeated  Wolfram,  and  his  eyes  reassured 
me. 

"Let  us  go  home  to-morrow,"  I  said.    "I  shall  be  glad 
if  I  need  never  see  that  man  again." 
"He  has  molested  you?" 

I've  not  said  much  about  it,  but  as  a  matter  of  fact 
he  had :  especially  before  Mr.  Van  Brunt  came  and  from 
the  beginning  established  himself  as  my  friend.  For  a 
few  days  the  Baron  had  shadowed  me  and  had  made  love 
to  me  in  a  way  I  could  not  misunderstand  or  entirely 
stop.  That  was  why  his  wife  had  turned  to  gall  and 
vinegar  and  that  was  why  he  himself  bore  me  a  grudge. 
I  suppose  he  was  not  used  to  rebuffs  and  I  think  he 
must  have  been  highly  inflammable:  for  lately  he  had 
looked  like  a  man  whose  passions  are  consuming  him 
so  that  even  Max  noticed  it  and  said  that  his  cousin 
v.  Osthofen  reminded  him  of  the  Spartan  boy  whose 
vitals  were  attacked  in  secret  by  a  fox.  To  my  knowl- 
edge I  had  never  met  a  man  of  his  kind  before  and  I 
hope  I  never  may  again.  But  when  I  hear  or  read  of 
the  German  cruelties  in  Belgium  and  in  the  prison  camps 
I  always  visualize  two  types  well  known  to  me:  and  one 
is  big  and  coarsely  brutal  like  my  father-in-law,  and  the 
other  is  mean  and  furtive  and  licentious  like  Baron  v. 
Osthofen. 


214  THE  DEVIL'S  CRADLE 

"Never  mind  him,"  I  said  to  my  husband.  "Let  us 
go  home." 

"I  can't  run  away  from  him,"  said  Wolfram,  but  he 
would  say  nothing  more:  and  he  would  not  promise  to 
go  home.  Looking  back,  I  am  amazed  at  myself  at 
my  want  of  perception  and  resolve.  I  blame  myself 
bitterly  and  yet  I  could  probably  have  done  nothing.  I 
go  over  the  events  of  that  night  till  my  faculties  are 
dazed,  and  yet  what  happened  happened,  and  that  hour  in 
which  everything  hung  in  balance  is  irrecoverable.  Sup- 
pose I  had  taken  alarm.  Suppose  when  Wolfram  per- 
suaded me  to  go  back  to  the  hotel  I  had  refused  to 
go  unless  he  came  with  me  and  stayed.  Suppose  I  had 
ordered  the  car  and  coaxed  him  into  it  and  driven 
through  the  summer  night  to  Hohenroda  and  arrived  there 
with  him  safe  and  sound.  Max  shakes  his  head  when 
I  say  such  things  to  him. 

"It  does  not  sound  like  my  father,"  he  says,  and  I 
know  he  is  right.  Wolfram  had  a  masterful  side  to  him 
and  every  now  and  then  I  found  myself  up  against  It. 
When  we  had  finished  our  dance  he  said  I  looked  tired 
and  that  he  would  take  me  home :  and  I  went  like  a  lamb. 
I  was  very  tired  and  I  let  Wilkins  undress  me  and  tuck 
me  up  in  bed  and  I  fell  fast  asleep.  I  didn't  even  have 
bad  dreams.  I  slept  till  dawn  and  then  was  waked  by 
Wolfram  coming  in,  up  and  dressed,  I  could  not  think 
why. 

"Have  you  been  dancing  all  night?"  I  said  sleepily, 
for  I  could  not  see  him  very  well  because  the  shutters 
were  shut  across  the  open  windows  and  the  light  was 
dim. 

"No,"  he  said,  "I've  not  been  dancing,"  and  he  took 


THE  DEVIL'S  CRADLE  215 

me  in  his  arms  and  kissed  me,  but  not  so  as  to  frighten 
me.  His  voice  was  tired  and  grave  though  and  I  noticed 
that. 

"Is  there  war?"  I  cried. 

"I  bring  no  news." 

"But,  Wolfram,  why  have  you  been  up  all  night?" 

"I  have  been  busy.    I  had  letters  to  write." 

"But  now  you  are  coming  to  bed." 

"Not  just  yet.  Go  to  sleep  again,  Karen.  Next  time 
you  wake  ..." 

His  voice  did  not  hold  out  as  firmly  as  he  wished  and 
that  alarmed  me. 

"Are  you  going  out?"  I  said,  holding  him  as  tight  as 
I  could.  I  remember  the  feel  of  his  sleeve  while  I  write 
and  of  his  arm  beneath  it  and  I  can't  write  much  more. 

"Throw  back  the  shutter,"  I  said,  before  he  answered. 
"I  want  to  see  you  better.  I'll  get  up  and  come  with 
you.  Wait  for  me.  I  won't  be  long." 

"I  can't  wait,  Karen.     Good-bye." 

"Yes.  Wait,"  I  tried  to  say,  but  whether  he  heard 
I  cannot  tell  you.  I  know  my  voice  seemed  to  die  in 
my  throat  and  I  put  my  arm  round  his  neck  and  told 
him  again  that  I  was  frightened  and  wanted  him  to  stay. 

"I  can't  stay,"  he  said,  "but  I  may  not  be  long." 

He  was  gone  before  I  could  say  all  that  was  in  my 
mind  or  any  of  the  things  that  might  have  persuaded 
him  to  stay. 


216  THE  DEVIL'S  CRADLE 


XL 


I  COULD  not  sleep.  I  could  not  rest.  At  six  I  got 
up  and  dressed  myself  and  went  downstairs.  The 
hotel  was  not  as  lifeless  as  an  English  hotel  is  at 
that  early  hour.  The  landlord  and  his  wife  were  up  and 
about,  the  hall  porter  was  in  his  office  and  there  was 
breakfast  ready  for  anyone  who  wanted  it.  I  saw  signs 
of  breakfast  having  been  eaten  at  one  table  and  a  waiter 
was  relaying  a  second  and  a  third.  I  thought  that 
people  looked  at  me  in  an  odd  way  when  I  appeared, 
but  no  one  said  more  than  the  usual  good-morning  and 
the  waiter  who  always  served  me  asked  me  if  I  would 
have  my  coffee  now.  You  must  remember  that  I  did 
not  know  then  what  had  happened  after  I  went  to  bed 
the  night  before  and  my  thoughts  were  occupied  with 
the  dread  of  war  and  the  idea  that  Wolfram  might  have 
been  summoned  suddenly  to  some  service  duty  of  which 
he  could  not  tell  me.  Baron  v.  Osthofen  came  into  my 
mind  with  disagreeable  reminiscence  but  not  with  fore- 
boding. A  man  like  him  seemed  to  matter  as  little  at 
such  a  time  as  a  rat  would  matter  in  a  earthquake.  For 
the  Germans  at  Ilgesheim  were  either  in  a  panic  or  a 
state  of  exultation  according  to  whether  they  wanted 
their  Day  or  feared  it;  and  the  more  cautious  Ameri- 
cans were  packing  up  their  traps  and  the  English  were 
slowly  making  up  their  minds  that  although  mine  host 
was  friendly  and  the  doctor  sympathetic  and  the  peasants 
picturesque,  they  had  perhaps  better  cut  short  their 
holiday  and  go  home.  But  the  exodus  had  hardly  be- 


THE  DEVIL'S  CRADLE  217 

gun  yet.  The  news  in  the  papers  was  still  scanty  and 
uncertain.  It  was  the  little  straws  that  showed  the  wind 
and  made  us  all  uneasy.  For  instance,  when  my  waiter 
brought  me  my  coffee  he  made  so  free  as  to  bid  me 
good-bye  because  he  was  leaving  that  morning;  and 
when  I  asked  him  why  he  was  leaving  he  said  that  he 
had  been  called  up  and  that  most  of  the  other  waiters 
had  been  called  up,  too.  I  asked  him  what  the  landlord 
would  do  and  he  said  he  would  probably  shut  the  hotel. 

"In  the  midst  of  summer !" 

The  man  shrugged  his  shoulders,  took  my  tip  and 
wished  me  happiness.  I  saw  that  he  was  greatly  dis- 
turbed and  he  told  me  that  he  was  the  son  of  the  hotel- 
keeper  and  had  come  here  to  learn  his  business  and  that 
he  had  a  bride  in  his  native  town  and  was  to  have  been 
married  that  autumn  and  help  in  the  management  of  his 
father's  hotel. 

"Perhaps  after  all  there  will  be  no  war,"  I  said. 

"There  will  be  war,"  said  he. 

"I  think  the  Herr  Graf  must  have  been  called  to 
Bertholdsruhe,"  I  said.  "He  left  very  early  this  morn- 
ing." 

The  man  looked  at  me  and  did  not  speak. 

"Did  you  see  him  before  he  left?"  I  asked,  for  there 
was  something  in  his  manner  that  roused  my  alarm. 

"I  served  Herr  Graf  as  usual.  He  drank  coffee  here, 
but  he  did  not  eat." 

"Did  he  tell  you  where  he  was  going?" 

The  man  shook  his  head,  flicked  his  napkin  as  waiters 
do  and  tried  to  get  away. 

"Do  you  know  where  he  has  gone?"  I  said,  but  I  felt 
half  ashamed  of  asking  and  perhaps  my  voice  came 


2i8  THE  DEVIL'S  CRADLE 

faintly.  At  any  rate  the  waiter  gave  me  no  answer,  but 
made  off  to  another  table;  and  I  strolled  out  of  doors 
and  into  the  market-place,  wondering,  as  people  do,  why  I 
ever  lay  late  abed  and  missed  the  freshness  of  the  morn- 
ing and  the  busy  sights  of  the  early  morning  hours. 
For  the  market  was  something  to  see  that  day  in  late 
July,  its  stalls  loaded  with  farm  and  garden  produce,  its 
peasants  and  citizens  chaffering  noisily  with  each  other, 
the  patient  mild-eyed  oxen  bringing  in  their  loaded  carts 
or  taking  them  empty  away  and  the  ancient  gabled  houses 
that  surrounded  the  place  seeming  to  wake  to  a  fresh 
day  and  throw  back  shutters  or  open  windows  in  wel- 
come of  it.  At  the  north  end  of  the  market  there  was  a 
thirteenth-century  house  with  a  sharply  gabled  roof,  and 
little  windows  as  high  as  they  could  go  in  the  roof  and 
a  fine  old  carved-stone  doorway.  To  the  right  of  it 
were  some  arcades  and  between  the  arcades  and  the 
gabled  house  two  tall  old  church  towers  rose  and  the 
gabled  red  brick  roofs  of  other  houses  built  on  slightly 
higher  ground  hundreds  of  years  ago.  I  was  standing 
at  the  south  end  of  the  market  with  some  apricots  and 
plums  I  had  just  bought  from  a  stall  close  by  when 
from  the  narrow  street  leading  out  of  the  market  to  the 
churches  a  procession  came  that  hushed  and  awed  the 
crowd  as  death  must  in  the  midst  of  life.  For  some 
of  the  men  walking  slowly  into  sight  carried  a  bier 
and  other  men  walked  beside  it,  reverently.  I  could  not 
see  much  else  at  first.  The  figure  on  the  bier  was  cov- 
ered and  if  it  had  not  been  for  the  woman  who  had 
sold  me  the  fruit  I  should  have  let  it  pass  me.  But  she 
knew  me  well  by  this  time  and  set  up  a  wail  that  curdled 
my  blood. 


THE  DEVIL'S  CRADLE  219 

"What  is  it  ?"  I  cried,  going  up  to  her,  but  by  this  time 
the  bier  was  half  way  across  the  market  and  near  enough 
for  me  to  see  that  it  was  not  a  peasant  lying  on  it  but 
an  officer  covered  with  an  officer's  long  bluish-gray 
cloak. 

"Go  home,  go  home,  Frau  Grafin,"  the  woman 
screamed.  "There  has  been  an  Ungluck.  God  grant  it 
is  the  other." 

"What  is  it?"  I  said  again. 

"A  duel  it  is.  This  morning  we  met  them  driving 
out  to  the  flat  field  near  the  butcher's  tower.  The  Herr 
Doktor  was  in  the  carriage  with  the  Herr  Baron,  but 
the  Herr  Graf  ..." 

Now  the  bier  had  reached  us  and  I  fell  upon  my  knees 
beside  it,  lifting  my  hand  as  I  did  so  to  make  them 
stop.  The  lookers-on  were  far  away  from  me  and  I 
was  alone  with  Wolfram,  whose  hand  lay  uncovered  so 
that  I  could  take  it  in  mine  while  I  turned  back  his 
cloak  from  his  face.  He  looked  as  I  had  often  seen 
him  look  in  sleep,  for  his  eyes  were  closed :  but  at  his 
heart  there  was  a  little  blood  and  I  sickened  as  I  saw 
it.  Otherwise  life  seemed  to  be  suspended  in  me  and 
I  could  neither  think  nor  sorrow  yet.  His  hand  was 
cold  already,  as  cold  as  stone.  I  rose  to  my  feet  and 
finding  strength  and  voice  enough  to  speak,  I  asked  if 
everything  possible  had  been  done. 

"There  was  nothing  that  could  be  done,"  the  doctor 
told  me.  "The  bullet  went  straight  through  the  heart." 

The  crowd  began  to  press  round  us  now  in  spite  of 
the  police  who  were  engaged  in  driving  it  away,  and 
the  men  carrying  the  body  moved  on  by  their  orders. 
I  walked  beside  it,  still  too  numb  and  stupid  to  feel  any- 


220  THE  DEVIL'S  CRADLE 

thing  except  a  weight  at  my  heart  that  shut  me  in  with 
Wolfram.  I  saw  nothing  but  his  still  figure  beneath  his 
cloak  and  I  heard  nothing  but  his  voice  bidding  me 
good-bye.  I  wished  I  was  with  him,  but  he  had  gone, 
leaving  me  alone.  As  we  reached  the  hotel  I  saw  «a 
little  crowd  of  people  in  front  of  it  and  amongst  them 
Max.  He  ran  forward  and  took  my  hand  in  his  and 
fondled  it;  but  at  first  he  did  not  speak.  It  was  when 
we  got  upstairs  to  the  room  I  had  left  a  little  while 
ago  that  we  both  broke  down.  I  will  not  try  to  de- 
scribe that  hour  or  the  desolation  of  spirit  that  descended 
on  us. 

"We  were  going  to  be  so  happy  together,"  murmured 
Max.  "We  three.  Our  happiness  was  just  beginning." 

"Why  did  it  happen?  What  happened?  Do  you 
know?"  I  asked  the  boy,  but  he  could  tell  me  nothing. 
So  we  sat  there  together  hour  after  hour  and  all  the 
morning  I  felt  peculiarly  wide-awake.  I  issued  orders, 
sent  telegrams  and  saw  the  numerous  officials  who  had 
duties  to  carry  out  in  connection  with  the  affair.  Then 
without  a  moment's  warning  some  string  within  me  gave 
way  and  as  Wilkins,  all  blubbering  and  unhinged,  hung 
over  me  and  tried  to  make  me  eat,  everything  suddenly 
went  black  and  I  knew  no  more.  It  happened  when 
I  came  back  from  the  room  in  some  public  building 
close  by,  where  Wolfram  lay.  I  had  seen  him  again, 
for  a  moment  they  had  left  me  alone  with  him  and  for 
the  last  time  I  had  kissed  his  lips.  I  thought  when  I 
bade  him  good-bye  that  I  would  be  brave  and  strong  as 
I  had  known  him  to  be :  but  against  my  will  my  strength 
failed.  I  can  only  tell  you  by  hearsay  what  happened 


THE  DEVIL'S  CRADLE  221 

for  some  time  to  come,  just  as  I  can  only  tell  you  by 
hearsay  what  had  happened  the  night  before  to  bring 
about  the  duel. 


XLI 


BARON  v.  OSTHOFEN  had  been  drunk  when  he 
accosted  Wolfram  and  me  in  the  ballroom  at  the 
Casino.  I  had  hardly  known  it,  for  men  who 
drink  had  never  come  my  way.  I  imagined  them  noisy, 
splendid  and  reeling  like  Sir  Charles  Wyndham,  whom 
I  had  seen  and  adored  as  David  Garrick  when  I  was 
a  child.  But  the  Baron  was  one  of  those  dangerous 
drinking  men  who  turn  wicked  in  their  cups,  wicked 
and  quarrelsome.  His  eyes  had  been  half  closed  and 
his  glance  from  beneath  the  puffy  lids  had  been  leering 
and  malevolent.  He  hated  Wolfram  and  he  was  furi- 
ous with  me  and  the  war  fever  that  was  rising  every 
hour  made  a  medium  in  which  his  evil  passions  flourished. 
His  world  was  with  him  when  he  said  insulting  things 
of  French  and  English  women  at  the  buffet  where  he 
stood  drinking  still  more:  so  that  he  felt  himself  ap- 
plauded and  encouraged.  I  suppose  there  must  have 
been  Americans  and  English  in  the  room,  for  they  had 
not  all  left  yet ;  but  I  picture  the  Baron  standing  with  his 
countryfolk  and  addressing  them,  while  they  purred  in 
agreement  and  turned  their  broad  backs  on  the  foreigners 
about  to  be  hurled  forth  in  ignominy  from  the  Father- 
land. I  cannot  give  you  his  exact  words,  but  probably 
any  one  could  who  has  heard  Orientals  quarreling  to- 


222  THE  DEVIL'S  CRADLE 

gether.  The  man  had  a  lewd  imagination  and  a  spite- 
ful tongue,  and  he  was  flown  with  wine.  I  do  not  even 
know  whether  he  descended  from  the  general  to  the 
particular  and  named  me.  Anyhow,  something  he  said 
seemed  to  Wolfram  insufferable  and  he  bade  his  cousin 
hold  his  tongue.  I  dare  say  my  husband's  manner  was 
not  conciliatory.  He  had  been  made  angry  enough 
already  when  we  were  dancing  together;  and  whoever 
described  the  scene  to  my  father-in-law  said  that  it  hap- 
pened in  a  moment  and  that  the  two  men  were  evidently 
enraged  with  each  other  before  Wolfram  spoke.  What 
he  said  sounded  like  the  last  explosion  in  a  quarrel  and 
not  like  the  beginning  of  one.  And  the  Baron  answered 
by  flinging  his  full  glass  of  wine  into  Wolfram's  face 
so  that  it  streamed  over  his  uniform  while  the  glass 
crashed  upon  the  floor.  After  that  there  was  only  one 
thing  that  my  husband  could  do.  He  would  have  been 
dishonored  if  he  had  hesitated:  and  he  did  not  hesitate 
for  a  moment.  He  made  his  cousin  one  of  his  scornful 
stately  bows  and  turned  from  him,  looking,  they  said, 
very  dignified  in  spite  of  the  sopping  red  wine.  I  still 
have  the  coat  he  was  wearing  and  the  stains  of  wine 
are  there,  dry  and  discolored  now.  So  Wolfram  was 
murdered  and  I  was  made  a  widow,  because  he  had  a 
vicious  drunken  cousin  who  picked  a  quarrel  with  him: 
and  that  is  still  the  code  of  honor  in  Germany.  But  the 
Baron  had  no  honor,  drunk  or  sober,  and  my  father-in- 
law  knew  it. 

"He  has  fought  six  duels,"  he  told  me,  "and  twice  he 
has  killed  and  once  when  he  killed  little  Graf  Elster 
they  said  what  they  say  now.  But  it  is  a  difficult  thing 
to  prove." 


THE  DEVIL'S  CRADLE  223 

He  had  pulled  his  trigger  too  soon,  it  seems,  not 
clumsily  soon  so  that  he  could  be  convicted  but  just  the 
edge  of  a  moment  soon,  while  Wolfram  waited  honestly 
and  fell  as  he  lifted  his  hand  to  fire.  Perhaps  if  war 
had  not  broken  out  there  would  have  been  a  scandal  and 
an  inquiry,  but  two  days  after  Wolfram  died  the  order 
came  to  mobilize  and  the  Baron,  who  had  gone  straight 
back  to  Reichenstadt,  was  sent  to  Luxembourg  and  was 
with  the  army  that  left  its  cruel  and  dishonored  mark 
on  Belgium :  so  that  an  innocent  German  like  Max,  when 
he  comes  to  man's  estate,  shall  find  his  race  accursed 
and  his  blood  refused  in  brotherhood  by  the  nations  who 
looked  on. 

But  as  long  as  I  was  at  Hohenroda  the  truth  was 
hidden  from  me  and  the  only  news  I  had  of  the  war 
was  of  German  victories.  English  letters  and  papers  did 
not  reach  me  and  though  I  wrote  to  Dad  I  received  no 
replies.  I  had  sent  him  a  telegram  when  Wolfram  died 
and  it  was  not  till  later  that  I  knew  why  he  had  not 
come  to  me.  He  had  been  away  from  home  at  the  time 
and  though  he  actually  started  for  Germany  directly  he 
got  back  he  could  not  get  through.  Wilkins  had  the 
sense  to  write  to  him  when  I  fell  ill  and  tell  him  that 
I  was  going  back  to  Hohenroda.  Otherwise  he  would 
hardly  have  known  what  had  become  of  me  or  whether 
I  was  dead  or  alive.  The  Hohenrodas  had  advised 
Wilkins  to  return  to  England  at  the  outbreak  of  war 
while  return  was  possible,  but  she  had  refused  to  go. 

"I  thought  it  well  over,"  she  said  to  me,  "and  I 
reckoned  you'd  be  glad  to  see  an  English  face  and  hear 
an  English  tongue  when  you  came  to  your  senses  again. 
If  I'd  been  a  man  I'd  have  cleared  out  double  quick.  You 


224  THE  DEVIL'S  CRADLE 

hear  of  them  shooting  men.  But  they're  not  going  to 
shoot  women  I  suppose,  though  the  little  gutter-snipes 
do  throw  stones  at  me  whenever  I  take  a  walk.  I  sup- 
pose you  know,  ma'am,  that  we're  at  war  with  Germany 
and  that  I  have  to  report  myself  to  the  police  every  day 
in  consequence.  Such  a  fuss  about  nothing;  and  I  can't 
say  much  for  their  manners  either.  But  what  can  you 
expect  ?" 

I  could  not  tell  Wilkins  what  I  expected.  I  was  sitting 
up  for  the  first  time  and  had  seen  a  German  paper  in 
which  there  was  a  jubilant  account  of  the  English  re- 
treat from  Mons.  German  airmen  had  dropped  bombs 
on  Paris.  The  French  Government  had  fled  to  Bordeaux. 
Everywhere  German  arms  were  triumphant  and  Germany 
would  soon  be  "iiber  Alles."  I  put  the  paper  down  and 
thought  of  the  Englishmen  fighting  against  odds.  The 
very  idea  was  new  and  strange:  the  idea  of  Englishmen 
fighting  on  French  soil.  Our  little  army  at  grips  with 
the  big  German  one!  I  did  not  know  then  that  the 
Kaiser  had  called  it  contemptible  and  that  his  insult  would 
be  cried  from  the  housetops  and  turned  into  an  honor 
by  the  heroism  of  the  men  at  whom  he  hurled  it.  I  knew 
nothing  that  day  except  that  Wolfram  was  dead  and 
that  I  was  widowed,  that  the  September  sun  was  shining 
and  that  the  world  had  gone  to  war.  At  Hohenroda  it 
was  very  peaceful  at  first,  for  the  Graf  had  been  appointed 
commandant  of  a  prisoners'  camp  and  was  away  all 
day;  and  the  Grafin  had  her  household  to  attend  to  as 
well  as  various  schemes  in  connection  with  war  work 
and  war  charities.  I  think  too  they  were  glad  not  to 
see  much  of  me,  partly  because  I  was  English  and  partly 
because,  they  argued,  if  their  son  had  never  married 


THE  DEVIL'S  CRADLE  225 

me  he  might  never  have  been  killed  in  a  duel.  The  Baron 
had  spoken  offensively  of  English  women  and  Wolfram 
had  resented  it:  but  if  he  had  not  married  one  he  need 
not  have  interfered.  I  was  perhaps  not  to  blame  .  .  . 

"Perhaps!"  I  cried,  astonished  by  my  mother-in-law's 
tone.  She  was  paying  her  daily  perfunctory  visit  and  had 
brought  me  the  paper  and  some  flowers. 

"I  was  not  in  Ilgesheim,"  she  said  stiffly.  "I  could 
only  listen  to  what  was  told  me." 

"It  might  have  been  wiser  not  to  listen,"  I  suggested. 
"A  watering-place  like  that  is  full  of  gossip." 

"I  do  not  gossip.  Your  own  friend,  Frau  von  Gosen, 
told  me  what  had  gone  on.  She  said  you  were  con- 
stantly about  with  an  American  to  an  extent  our  stricter- 
ideas  consider  free :  and  that  the  Baron,  who  was  madly 
in  love  with  you  ..." 

"The  Baron  madly  in  love  with  me !    What  nonsense !" 

"Frau  von  Gosen  assured  me  that  the  Baron  was  in 
love  with  you  and  furiously  jealous  of  the  American." 

"Then  why  didn't  he  kill  the  American?  Why  should 
he  pick  up  a  quarrel  with  Wolfram?" 

"Everyone  tells  me  he  was  drunk  at  the  time  and  not 
responsible  for  what  he  said  or  did." 

"He  is  a  criminal  and  ought  to  have  been  punished." 

"He  has  just  received  the  Order  of  the  Red  Eagle," 
said  the  Grafin  with  a  sigh.  "He  is  alive  and  well  and 
distinguishing  himself  while  my  Wolfram  ..." 

"How  has  he  distinguished  himself?" 

"In  Belgium.  He  was  at  Liege,  at  Dinant,  at  Vise 
and  at  Louvain  when  our  brave  men  had  to  burn  it. 
Have  you  read  that  the  heart  of  the  All-Highest  bled 


226  THE  DEVIL'S  CRADLE 

for  Louvain?  Such  noble  words  touch  and  inspire  us 
all." 

"I  wish  I  could  see  some  English  papers,"  I  said  un- 
guardedly. My  mother-in-law  looked  horrified  and 
offended. 

"What  can  you,  the  widow  of  a  German  officer,  want 
with  English  papers?"  she  asked.  "They  are  not  like 
ours.  They  tell  lies." 

"How  do  you  know?" 

"They  accuse  us  of  infamies.  They  call  us  barbarians. 
Such  lowness!  Such  impudence!  War  is  war." 


XLII 

FOR  weeks  and  weeks  after  Wolfram  died,  I  knew 
little  or  nothing  of  what  was  going  on  in  the 
world.    I  was  broken  in  spirit  and  in  health  for 
the  time,  and  when  I  got  up  I  spent  the  late  September 
days  sitting  in  my  own  room  or  in  some  sunny  corner 
of  the  garden.    If  it  had  not  been  for  Max  and  Wilkins 
I  should  have  been  forlorn,  but  they  never  failed  me 
and  though  she  was  in  the  hands  of  our  bitter  enemies 
and  saw  no  papers  that  she  could  read,  Wilkins  kept  a 
brave  heart  about  the  war. 

"Such  goings-on !"  she  would  say  when  she  came  back 
from  her  visit  to  the  police-station.  "Flags  flyin'  and 
bands  playin'.  They've  got  Brussels.  What's  Brussels? 
They  say  they'll  have  Paris  soon,  and  that  Paris  is  only 
eight  hours  from  London.  Eight  hours !  I  don't  think ! 
And  our  navy  about.  But  you  can't  explain  to  these 


THE  DEVIL'S  CRADLE  227 

people  anything  about  a  navy.  Most  of  'em  have  never 
set  eyes  on  the  sea ;  and  it  does  make  a  difference,  I'm 
sure,  m'm,  even  if  it's  only  Scarborough  in  August. 
The  Duchess  preferred  Whitby  for  the  young  ladies  as 
being  more  select,  but  I'm  partial  to  Scarborough  my- 
self, and  two  of  my  sister's  boys  are  in  the  merchant 
service.  I'd  give  something  to  know  where  they  are  now. 
In  it,  I'll  be  bound." 

While  Wilkins  chattered  I  sat  by  the  open  window 
and  I  idly  watched  her  come  to  and  from  the  adjoining 
room  with  her  preparations  for  my  midday  meal.  She 
looked  hot  and  tired,  and  I  wondered  why.  That 
showed  I  was  getting  better.  As  they  say  of  babies, 
I  was  beginning  to  take  notice.  She  had  brought  in  one 
of  those  tiers  of  earthenware  dishes  in  which  you  can 
carry  about  a  succession  of  courses,  and  was  giving  me 
some  soup  from  the  top  one. 

"Isn't  that  heavy,  Wilkins?"  I  said,  looking  at  the 
stack  of  dishes. 

"It  might  be  heavier,"  she  said,  evasively. 

"Who  brings  it  up  here?" 

"Never  mind  who  brings  it  so  long  as  it  comes,"  she 
said,  talking  just  as  she  did  when  I  was  ten,  and  she  told 
me  not  to  ask  questions  if  I  wanted  no  stories  told. 

But  next  day  I  met  her  in  the  corridor  staggering  under 
the  weight  of  it;  for  she  was  a  little  woman  and  the 
kitchens  at  Hohenroda  were  a  sabbath  day's  journey 
from  my  rooms,  and  not  on  a  level  road  either  but  up 
twisty  stairs  and  round  awkward  corners. 

"This  is  absurd,  Wilkins,"  I  said.  "The  house  is  full 
of  hefty  men  and  women  who  could  carry  that  for  you. 
Why  doesn't  Rosa  do  it?"  Rosa  was  a  peasant  woman 


2*8  THE  DEVIL'S  CRADLE 

as  strong  as  an  ox  whose  business  it  was  to  clean  the 
rooms  in  our  wing,  and  generally  fetch  and  carry  for  us. 

"I  couldn't  think  of  it,  m'm,"  said  Wilkins  in  her 
most  stand-offish  tone  which,  however,  had  no  effect 
on  me. 

"By  the  way,  what  has  become  of  Rosa?"  I  asked. 
Tve  not  seen  her  for  a  long  time." 

"She  is  still  in  the  castle,  m'm." 

"Doesn't  she  clean  our  rooms  now  ?" 

"I  believe  not.  Your  soup  is  ready  and  none  too  hot. 
If  you  will  attend  to  your  dinner,  m'm  ..." 

I  was  being  told  to  mind  my  own  business.  I  under- 
stood that  right  enough,  but  there  was  a  limit  to  what 
I  could  bear,  even  from  Wilkins.  I  turned  on  her. 

"You're  cleaning  the  rooms  yourself,"  I  cried. 

"I  hope  I'm  giving  satisfaction.  If  there  is  anything 
not  quite  right  ..." 

I  took  her  by  both  shoulders  and  looked  into  her  eyes. 
She  got  very  red  and  turned  her  eyes  away,  but  her 
stand-offishness  which  never  was  a  trustworthy  weapon 
in  her  hands  broke  down.  Then  I  saw  that  her  eyes 
were  full  of  tears  and  that  behind  her  armor  of  banter 
and  indifference  there  was  something  I  had  not  been 
allowed  to  know. 

"Why  doesn't  Rosa  clean  our  rooms  now,  Wilkins?" 
I  asked. 

"Me  c.nd  her  had  words.    We  fell  out." 

"What  about?" 

She  hesitated. 

"I  hardly  like  to  tell  you.    You'd  hardly  believe  it." 

"I  believe  you." 

"You  may.    I'd  swear  to  it  on  the  Bible." 


THE  DEVIL'S  CRADLE  229 

"What  was  it?" 

"I  caught  her  outside  with  those  dishes.  She  had  the 
top  lid  off  and  was  spitting  into  the  soup;  as  true  as 
I  stand  here." 

"It's  a  common  trick  in  this  country  when  they  don't 
like  you,"  Wilkins  continued,  as  I  did  not  speak.  "Eng- 
lish swine  they  call  us;  and  I'd  rather  be  an  English 
swine  than  a  German  human  being,  from  what  I've  seen 
and  heard  since  there's  been  a  war  on.  That  Heinrich, 
who  cleaned  the  boots  here,  was  back  wounded  the  other 
day  and  bragging  about  what  him  and  his  mates  did  in 
a  French  castle;  in  the  ladies'  bedrooms.  Baboons 
would  be  more  decent  I  should  say." 

"But  could  you  understand  him,  Wilkins?" 

"I  understand  a  bit  now.  Besides,  they  don't  only 
tell  you  with  their  tongues.  Their  coarseness  has  always 
disgusted  me  and  now  they're  worse  than  ever.  I  walked 
out  of  the  room  with  all  of  them  calling  'English  swine !' 
after  me.  One  gets  quite  used  to  it;  and  they  daren't 
do  more  than  shout.  They're  scared  to  death  of  the 
Graf  and  Grafin.  Besides,  they  know  I  won't  stand  any 
nonsense.  I'm  glad  the  soup  happened  to  be  scalding  hot 
that  day." 

I  naturally  asked  why,  and  was  told  that  it  had  been 
promptly  and  effectively  thrown  into  Rosa's  face,  and 
that  she  had  retired,  squealing  loudly;  that  she  had  gone 
blubbering  to  her  mistress  with  a  lying  story  about  the 
Englishwoman,  that  there  had  been  an  enquiry  and  that 
the  Graf  and  Grafin  had  both  believed  Wilkins  and 
read  the  Riot  Act  to  their  assembled  household,  explain- 
ing that  the  Grafin  Wolfram  was  now  a  German  and 
must  be  treated  as  such;  and  that  Wilkins  was  living 


230  THE  DEVIL'S  CRADLE 

under  their  protection  until  a  suitable  opportunity  arose 
for  her  return  to  England. 

"Then  you  are  doing  Rosa's  work  as  well  as  your 
own?"  I  asked. 

"I'm  not  doing  more  than  is  good  for  me,"  said 
Wilkins,  trying  to  be  disagreeable  and  stand-offish  again ; 
but  I  put  my  arms  round  her  and  kissed  her  as,  she  says, 
I  did  when  I  was  a  child  and  had  been  more  contrary 
than  usual.  She  had  been  nursing  me  night  and  day 
ever  since  Wolfram  died,  had  been  alone  with  her  anxiety, 
alone  among  hostile  savages  and  with  more  manual  work 
on  her  hands  than  she  had  ever  done  before.  She 
looked  thin  and  ill.  But  we  sat  together  and  talked  of 
England  and  that  comforted  us  both.  For  though  we 
were  without  knowledge,  we  were  full  of  faith  and  never 
doubted  for  a  moment  that  England  would  win. 

I  had  loved  Wolfram  dearly,  but  I  cannot  say  that 
my  year  of  married  life  had  taught  me  to  love  his 
country-people,  and  now  that  he  had  gone,  my  whole 
heart  was  set  on  England  and  I  longed  to  see  my  father 
again,  and  the  streets  and  lights  of  London,  and  the 
Londoners  going  to  war.  It  was  unimaginable,  but  I 
spent  my  days  trying  to  imagine  it.  The  German  papers 
I  saw  were  full  of  sneers  about  Kitchener's  army,  and 
the  easy  prey  such  soft,  incompetent  civilians  would  be 
to  "our  invincible  grays."  The  Graf  said  that  England 
would  never  raise  a  citizen  army  at  all,  and  that  we 
should  fight  as  we  had  always  fought  before  with  our 
money-bags  but  not  with  our  men.  He  came  back  from 
the  camp  every  day  with  stories  of  the  English,  French 
and  Russian  prisoners,  and  of  the  trouble  the  English 
gave  him  with  their  requirements  and  want  of  discipline. 


THE  DEVIL'S  CRADLE  231 

I  asked  him  if  I  could  see  the  camp,  but  he  put  me  off 
roughly,  and  said  he  had  too  much  to  do  there  to  take 
visitors  with  him. 

"He's  ashamed,"  said  Wilkins.  "That's  what  he  is. 
Ashamed  you  should  know." 

"Know  what?" 

"The  way  they're  treated.  Mamsell,  she  tells  me 
things,  and  they  make  my  blood  run  cold.  I  don't  let 
her  see  it.  I  put  on  my  most  woolly-lamb  expression 
and  I  say  'Oh,  indeed?'  because  I  want  to  find  out  all 
I  can  against  the  time  I  go  back  home.  But  you 
wouldn't  believe.  No  one  would  believe,  and  I  lie  awake 
nights  raging,  and  I'm  helpless.  Our  men  are  starved, 
m'm,  they're  bullied,  they're  knocked  silly  with  the  butt 
end  of  rifles,  they're  alive  with  lice,  they're  dying  like 
flies." 

I  suppose  I  turned  pale,  for  she  stopped  suddenly. 

"I  dunno  whether  to  laugh  or  to  cry  over  one  story," 
she  went  on.  "What  do  you  think  the  little  German 
boys  do  of  a  Sunday  afternoon?  Take  their  bows  and 
arrows,  they  do,  and  shoot  at  the  prisoners,  at  those 
who  have  the  strength  left  to  be  walking  up  and  down. 
Some  boys  from  our  village  told  Mamsell  about  it." 

"I  wonder  what  Pastor  Mink  is  about  ?"  I  said. 


232  THE  DEVIL'S  CRADLE 


XLIII 

I  FOUND  out  what  Pastor  Mink  was  about  on  the 
following  Sunday  when  I  went  to  church  for  the 
first  time  since  Wolfram  died.  I  am  not  fond  of 
the  Lutheran  service  at  any  time,  and  I  had  never  liked 
or  trusted  the  Minks.  I  mean  I  had  not  trusted  in  their 
goodness  although  they  talked  of  the  heavenly  powers 
and  appealed  to  them  oftener'  and  more  intimately  than 
such  as  I  do  at  home.  The  husband  and  wife  both  had 
smooth,  hypocritical  faces  and  a  fawning  manner,  mixed 
in  his  case  with  a  flavor  of  male  condescension  so  com- 
mon and  so  exasperating  in  Germans  of  the  meaner 
kind ;  and  beneath  their  smoothness  and  their  obsequious- 
ness I  had  always  known  that  there  were  qualities 
neither  smooth  nor  humble.  It  needed  little  insight  to 
discover  this,  and  yet  the  Hohenrodas  had  not  found 
it  out.  With  the  old  people  and  with  Wolfram  the 
Minks  passed  for  a  model  pastoral  pair,  meek,  beautiful 
and  holy;  and  the  Graf  and  Grafin  were  both  so  obtuse 
that  even  now  the  pastor's  ravings  did  not  open  their 
eyes.  When  he  began  to  preach  that  morning  he  read 
as  his  text  one  of  those  passages  from  the  Old  Testa- 
ment in  which  the  Israelites  on  going  to  war  are  exhorted 
to  slay  their  enemies,  sparing  neither  women  nor  chil- 
dren. He  compared  the  passage  he  had  chosen  with 
others  of  a  similar  kind.  He  gloated  over  massacre,  he 
waded  screaming  with  maniacal  enjoyment  in  blood.  He 
described  the  process  of  hewing  Agag  in  pieces  before 
the  Lord.  He  compared  the  King  of  the  Belgians  with 


THE  DEVIL'S  CRADLE  233 

Sihon,  the  King  of  the  Amorites.  "And  we  took  all 
his  cities  at  that  time  and  utterly  destroyed  the  men  and 
the  women  and  the  little  ones,  of  every  city  we  left  none 
to  remain." 

"Slay,  burn,"  he  screeched,  beating  the  air  with  his 
clenched  fist,  and  finished  by  declaiming  the  Hymn  of 
Hate  which  had  just  appeared  in  Jugend,  but  which'  I 
had  not  heard  yet.  "England !  England !"  he  finished, 
thrusting  a  skinny  denunciatory  hand  at  me,  and  then 
sank  upon  his  knees  ...  to  pray,  heaven  save  the 
mark,  to  his  German  God. 

At  home,  I  know,  you  have  laughed  at  the  Hymn  of 
Hate.  It  ran  like  a  joke  through  the  Empire,  waking 
you  ever  so  little  to  the  German  state  of  mind ;  but  only 
exciting  a  mild  wonder  that  a  nation  calling  itself 
grown-up  could  be  so  silly  and  hysterical.  I  have  found 
on  the  whole  that  English  people  preferred  not  to  speak 
of  it.  It  offended  their  sense  of  decency  just  as  the 
gibberings  of  an  ape  or  a  lunatic  might  do.  But  I  was 
alone,  bereaved,  and  I  suppose  not  as  strong  as  usual. 
I  felt  myself  being  cursed  and  pilloried.  I  saw  hostile 
faces  everywhere,  and  the  thought  of  being  by  myself 
and  at  the  mercy  of  people  knowing  no  mercy  turned 
me  dizzy  for  a  moment.  I  have  always  thought  that 
the  slow  journey  to  the  guillotine  through  that  sea  of 
angry,  malevolent  faces  must  have  been  worse  than 
death  itself;  and  now  I  know  that  I  was  right,  and  that 
the  horror  and  loneliness  of  sitting  amongst  enemies  as 
cruel  as  a  pack  of  wolves  sears  your  soul  as  no  bodily 
hurt  can.  I  shrank  within  myself.  I  felt  the  chill  air 
of  death,  and  I  should  have  broken  down,  I  fear,  had  it 
not  been  for  Max.  He  put  his  warm  hand  upon  my 


234  THE  DEVIL'S  CRADLE 

cold  one,  and  gave  it  a  little  squeeze  of  encouragement 
and  affection. 

"I  thought  you  were  going  to  faint,"  he  said  later. 

I  was  in  my  own  sitting-room,  and  he  had  come  there 
to  see  me.  There  was  a  strong  tie  between  us,  and 
though  his  sympathies  were  honestly  and  naturally  Ger- 
man, he  never  let  that  affect  his  friendliness  to  me.  He 
was  too  immature  to  understand  the  full  wretchedness  of 
my  position;  but  he  remembered  that  his  father  had 
loved  me,  and  committed  me  to  his  care,  and  his  manner 
had  a  note  of  tender  protection  in  it  that  was  both 
touching  and  amusing  in  one  so  young. 

I  asked  my  father-in-law  that  evening  whether  I  could 
return  to  England  if  I  wished,  but  I  found  that  it 
would  not  be  easy  and  also  that  he  considered  it  inad- 
visable. 

"You  are  my  son's  widow.  You  are  living  under  the 
protection  of  his  parents,  and  that  is  the  proper  place 
for  you  to  live  while  you  are  so  young,"  he  said. 

"You  bear  our  name,"  the  Grafin  reminded  me.  "By 
marriage  you  are  a  German  and  a  Hohenroda.  Would 
you  go  over  to  our  enemies?" 

I  would  have  gone  that  moment  if  I  could,  on  the 
wings  of  the  wind ;  for  I  loved  their  enemies  and  longed 
to  be  amongst  them  again.  But  I  could  not  say  so. 

"At  any  rate,  I  will  not  go  to  church  again,"  I  said. 
"I  may  be  a  German  by  marriage,  but  marriage  isn't 
everything." 

The  Grafin's  eyes  were  fixed  on  me  in  disapproval 
and  surprise. 

"It  should  be  everything,"  she  said. 

"I'm  English,"  I  said  obstinately,  and  the  Graf  cleared 


THE  DEVIL'S  CRADLE  235 

his  throat  in  a  way  he  intended  to  be  terrifying  and 
glared  at  me. 

"If  you  said  that  outside  these  walls  you  might  be 
torn  in  pieces,"  he  thundered.  "Take  care." 

I  thought  he  was  exaggerating  and  trying  to  be  dis- 
agreeable for  I  knew  next  to  nothing  of  what  had  hap- 
pened in  the  world  since  Wolfram's  death  nearly  three 
months  ago.  The  Pastor's  sermon  and  the  Hymn  of 
Hate  had  entered  like  iron  into  my  soul  that  morning, 
but  even  then  I  did  not  realize  that  I  was  listening  to 
the  voice  of  the  nation  and  not  merely  to  the  fanatic 
frenzy  of  a  crazy  shepherd  and  a  crazy  poet.  However, 
I  was  not  well  enough  yet  to  go  outside  the  Hohenroda 
walls,  and  the  next  object-lesson  I  received  in  the  state 
of  the  German  temper  was  when  Max  arrived  from 
school  one  day  with  his  coat  torn  and  his  face  bruised 
and  bleeding.  He  had  been  set  upon  in  the  playground 
by  a  mob  of  boys  and  battered  savagely  because  his 
father  had  married  an  Englishwoman. 

"They  wanted  me  to  spit  upon  your  name  and  I  re- 
fused," he  said. 

"I  wonder  why  the  Germans  are  so  fond  of  spitting," 
I  said  to  Wilkins,  who  was  attending  to  Max's  wounds 
and  listening  to  his  story. 

"Dirty!"  she  said  to  me,  when  Max  had  gone. 
"Dirty  eaters.  Dirty  fighters.  I  wish  we  were  at  home, 
m'm.  I  suppose  there's  no  way  of  getting  there?" 

I  told  her  what  the  Graf  had  said  about  our  being 
torn  to  pieces  if  we  called  ourselves  English,  and  she 
told  me  stories  that  came  to  her  through  the  little 
Mamsell  of  the  prisoners'  camp  and  of  the  treatment  of 
prisoners  on  their  way  to  it.  At  first  I  found  them 


236  THE  DEVIL'S  CRADLE 

difficult  to  believe,  but  one  afternoon  Frau  Mink,  who 
was  an  active  member  of  the  Red  Cross,  paid  us  a  visit 
and  recounted  her  own  deeds  and  adventures  at  Reichen- 
stadt  railway  station  the  day  before.  She  was  one  of 
the  ladies  in  charge  of  a  refreshment  stall  for  wounded 
soldiers  there,  and  she  described  the  arrival  of  the 
trains  from  the  front,  the  terrible  sufferings  of  the  un- 
happy men  in  them  and  the  Christian  joy  with  which 
she  and  other  devoted  German  women  ministered  to  their 
needs.  But  gradually  working  herself  into  a  frenzy,  she 
went  on  to  describe  the  scandalous  conduct  of  two 
Jewesses  whom  she  believed  to  be  friends  of  mine  and 
whom,  if  she  had  had  her  way,  she  would  have  hounded 
out  of  the  station  with  whips. 

"With  whips!"  she  hissed.  "Such  women  I  would 
whip." 

"What  did  they  do?"  I  asked,  recognizing  that  she 
spoke  of  Eugenie  von  Gosen  and  Emma  who  was  now 
Frau  Oscar  Strauss.  I  had  found  letters  of  condolence 
from  both  sisters  in  the  correspondence  put  aside  for 
me  when  I  was  ill;  and  also  intimations  of  Emma's 
formal  betrothal  and  of  her  quiet  hurried  wedding. 

"There  were  Englishmen  in  the  cattle  trucks  attached 
to  the  train,"  said  Frau  Mink  in  a  tone  of  concentrated 
hate. 

"Wounded  and  suffering,  too,"  I  suggested. 

"Let  them  suffer.  Let  them  die.  War  is  war  and 
they  made  it.  Our  Red  Cross  is  not  for  them." 

"I  thought  it  was  for  everyone  alike." 

"Not  at  all.  We  Germans  hate  our  enemies.  We  are 
furious  and  terrible  in  war  as  our  God  commands.  I 
watched  the  Jewesses  fill  the  plates  with  bread  and  the 


THE  DEVIL'S  CRADLE  237 

cups  with  coffee.  I  bided  my  time.  I  saw  the  English 
wretches  stretch  out  their  hands  and  I  heard  them  beg 
for  food  and  drink.  All  night  and  day  they  had 
traveled  in  filth  I  would  not  permit  my  swine  to  wallow 
in.  They  were  caked  with  blood  and  mud.  They  were 
pinched  with  hunger,  mad  with  thirst  ..." 

"Thank  God,  my  friends  were  there  to  help  them,"  I 
cried ;  but  the  woman  laughed,  a  smooth,  sneering,  noise- 
less laugh,  as  hateful  as  her  mouth. 

"I  was  in  command,"  she  said,  pointing  to  her  own 
breast.  "I  knocked  the  cups  and  plates  from  their  hands 
and  spilt  the  coffee  on  the  floor  before  the  men's  eyes. 
I  ordered  the  Jewesses  out  of  the  station.  They  will  be 
reprimanded  and  their  badges  will  be  taken  away." 

"You  disgrace  the  badge  you  wear,"  I  said  plainly, 
for  the  Red  Cross  was  on  her  arm  and  my  eyes  had 
been  fixed  on  it  as  she  told  her  shameful  story. 


•      XLIV 

THE  autumn  and  the  winter  dragged.     I  became 
well  in  body  but  more  depressed  in  spirit  than 
I  had  ever  thought  to  be.     No  English  papers 
reached  me  and   in  all  that  time  I   only  heard  twice 
from  Dad.     The  letters  that  came  through  were  short 
and  colorless,  just  letting  me  know  that  he  was  well  and 
going  to  America  again  early  in  the  spring.     I  knew 
nothing  of  the  war  but  what  the  Reichenstddter  Zeitung 
told  me,  and  as  long  as  I  was  in  Germany  I  never  heard 
of  the  battle  of  the  Marne.    Victory  was  on  everyone's 


238  THE  DEVIL'S  CRADLE 

lips  and  in  the  flags  they  waved  and  the  joy  bells  they 
rang,  but  I  thought  that  sorrow  and  uncertainty  were  in 
their  hearts.  Not  that  their  hearts  were  in  the  least 
degree  softened.  The  Graf  was  as  savage  against  his 
enemies  as  if  he  had  been  a  captain  in  Israel  with  orders 
from  his  heavenly  Lord  to  slay  and  spare  not;  and 
though  the  Grafin  was  not  such  a  hyaena  as  Frau  Mink 
she  accepted  the  tone  prevalent  around  her  and  did  not 
try  to  check  it. 

I  was  not  allowed  to  go  near  the  prisoners'  camp  of 
which  I  heard  stories  on  all  sides:  stories  of  riots  and 
insubordination,  of  illness,  of  deaths  that  made  me  wish 
I  could  visit  my  countrymen  there  and  find  out  the 
truth.  But  it  was  as  impossible  to  get  inside  as  it  would 
have  been  to  get  into  a  prison  at  home  without  a  permit. 
I  did  not  find  fault  with  that,  but  I  felt  helpless  and 
most  uneasy.  They  were  so  near,  those  Englishmen 
who  had  fought  for  their  country,  and  I  longed  to  talk 
to  them,  to  see  English  faces  again  and  hear  the  English 
tongue:  perhaps  be  able  to  give  them  little  things  they 
wanted  and  to  assure  myself  that  they  were  properly 
fed  and  clothed.  We  had  plenty  to  eat  at  Hohenroda, 
but  there  was  a  great  deal  of  talk  before  long  of  a 
coming  famine  and  of  the  English  blockade  that  would 
bring  it  about.  I  asked  my  father-in-law  what  the  ra- 
tions were  at  the  camp,  but  he  would  not  tell  me.  In 
fact,  that  was  the  way  with  everybody  I  met.  A  con- 
spiracy of  silence  shut  me  out  of  everything  concerning 
the  war  except  the  victories  and  the  atrocities  committed 
by  enemy  soldiers  and  civilians  on  the  humane  German 
troops.  I  was  as  much  in  the  dark  about  what  had 
actually  happened  as  most  of  the  Germans  were  them- 


THE  DEVIL'S  CRADLE  239 

selves :  only  when  they  actually  boasted  of  infamies  they 
had  committed  or  heard  of,  I  seemed  to  shift  my  judg- 
ment of  them  and  begin  to  understand  that  the  greater 
part  of  the  nation  was  demented  and  depraved  tor  the 
time  being,  and  was  saying  as  Satan  did,  Evil  be  thou 
my  good.  When  the  Lusitania  went  down,  Max  had  a 
holiday;  a  general  holiday  given  at  all  the  schools  in 
Germany  in  honor  of  the  occasion.  Just  consider  a 
moment  to  what  depths  a  people  must  have  fallen  to 
teach  their  young  the  celebration  of  murder:  the  whole- 
sale murder  of  men,  women  and  children  on  the  high 
seas.  A  little  later  Max  brought  home  the  medal  struck 
in  commemoration  and  gave  it  to  his  grandmother.  He 
did  not  show  it  to  me  because  he  knew  that  I  was  eating 
my  heart  out  over  my  father  who  should  have  been 
returning  from  New  York  about  the  time  the  great  liner 
was  lost  and  from  whom  I  did  not  hear.  Besides,  I  had 
spoken  my  mind  to  Max  about  the  dishonor  brought 
upon  his  country's  name  by  such  a  deed :  for  my  mind's 
eye  saw  the  drowning  women  and  children,  and  I  was 
revolted  by  the  unctuous  excuses  made  by  the  German 
press.  Even  Eugenie  when  I  met  her  had  a  qualm  and 
said  it  was  gruselig  and  she  hoped  my  father  had  not 
been  on  board:  but  Pastor  Mink  rang  his  church  bells 
and  told  his  flock  that  if  only  he  had  been  younger  he 
would  have  danced  before  his  altar  as  David  did  before 
the  Ark,  and  that  whoever  wasted  pity  upon  the  victims 
and  could  not  give  himself  up  to  honest  delight  was  no 
true  German.  He  said  much  the  same  to  me  when  we 
met  in  the  village  one  May  morning. 

"My  father  may  have  been  on  board,"  I  told  him. 

"That  is  allerdings  unfortunate :  but  inasmuch  as  your 


24o  THE  DEVIL'S  CRADLE 

father  was  an  enemy  you  must  rejoice  that  he  may  be 
amongst  the  slain." 

I  turned  my  back  on  him:  and  Max  told  me  on  the 
following  Sunday  that  he  preached  a  more  bloodthirsty 
sermon  than  ever  and  that  his  text  was  from  the  I37th 
Psalm — Happy  shall  he  be  that  taketh  and  dasheth  thy 
little  ones  against  the  stones. 

In  Britain  you  are  not  so  much  inclined  to  shudder 
at  this  spirit  as  to  laugh  at  it.  You  collect  the  fiercest 
and  silliest  of  the  Hunnish  ravings  in  a  volume  and 
sell  them  on  bookstalls  to  make  you  a  holiday.  I  cannot 
laugh  with  you  even  now  because  of  what  my  eyes  saw 
and  my  ears  heard  one  day  in  Reichenstadt.  You  who 
sit  safe  in  your  own  country  view  these  gibberings  as 
something  wholly  contemptible  and  impotent.  You  know 
that  even  if  the  English  have  begun  to  hate,  they  hate 
with  a  difference.  They  are  going  to  remember,  if  they 
can  they  are  going  to  punish,  but  as  a  nation  they  are 
not  going  to  run  amok  like  savages  themselves. 

I  had  driven  Wolfram's  car  into  Reichenstadt  to  do 
some  shopping  for  my  mother-in-law  and  to  fetch  Max 
from  school.  She  was  evidently  uneasy  at  the  idea  of 
my  going  alone,  but  she  wanted  her  commissions  done 
and  was  not  quite  well  enough  to  accompany  me.  I  did 
not  dream  of  any  danger  to  myself  because  Wilkins 
had  told  me  that  the  village  children  made  faces  at  her 
and  threw  stones,  but  that  grown-up  men  and  women 
only  screamed  abusive  names  when  she  passed  by  and 
that,  she  said,  did  not  hurt.  I  thought  it  would  hurt  a 
little,  but  I  hoped  the  noise  of  the  car  would  prevent 
me  hearing,  and  when  I  got  to  the  main  street  of 
Reichenstadt  and  the  best  shops,  I  expected  people  to 


THE  DEVIL'S  CRADLE  241 

behave.  I  think  they  probably  would  have  behaved  if 
I  had  been  a  less  conspicuous  figure.  But  too  much  and 
too  little  was  known  about  me  for  my  comfort.  I  was 
English;  I  was  a  widow,  and  my  German  husband  had 
been  killed  by  his  cousin  in  a  duel.  They  blamed  me, 
I  believe,  imagined  love-affairs  where  there  had  been 
none  and  looked  at  me  askance.  Eugenie  von  Gosen  with 
the  air  of  one  bravely  speaking  to  a  pariah  shook  hands 
with  me  in  a  grocer's  shop  and  in  a  clear,  loud  voice 
asked  after  the  Graf  and  Grafin.  I  asked  after  Eduard 
and  she  told  me  that  he  was  in  France  and  in  good 
health.  She  hoped  he  would  have  leave  soon  and  that 
she  would  see  him  again. 

"When  we  get  to  Calais,  the  war  will  soon  be  over," 
she  said. 

"When  you  do,"  I  thought. 

"We  shall  get  it  shortly  and  dictate  a  peace  from 
London." 

I  said  "Indeed."  I  was  always  saying  "Indeed"  to 
Germans  in  those  days. 

"Oscar  Strauss  is  in  Brussels,"  continued  Eugenie. 
"He  is  wounded  and  in  a  hospital.  He  has  two  brothers 
who  are  prisoners  in  England." 

"I  hope  they  are  both  as  comfortable  as  possible,"  I 
said.  "Shall  I  write  and  tell  Dad  about  them?  Perhaps 
he  would  be  allowed  to  send  them  things." 

There  was  an  odd,  half  shamefaced  gleam  in  Eugenie's 
eyes,  and  an  unusual  touch  of  hesitation  in  her  manner. 

"They  both  write  that  they  are  well  treated  and  have 
all  they  want,"  she  said.  "It  should  be  so.  Prisoners, 
I  say,  are  no  longer  enemies." 

After  that  we  naturally  talked  about  Frau  Mink  and 


242  THE  DEVIL'S  CRADLE 

the  abominations  committed  by  her  and  her  fellow 
Christians  on  the  sick  and  the  wounded.  I  cannot  re- 
peat most  of  the  things  Eugenie  told  me  because  they 
are  not  fit  for  print  and  because  you  would  probably 
not  believe  them.  There  is  a  meanness  and  a  dirtiness  of 
brutality  to  which  the  very  apes  hardly  descend :  and  when 
they  are  told  of  Red  Cross  women  in  a  country  claiming 
to  be  civilized,  your  mind  dazzles  and  refuses.  Unless 
you  happen  to  have  been  in  a  German  city  as  I  was 
in  the  spring  of  1915,  when  a  large  batch  of  British 
prisoners  was  being  escorted  through  the  streets. 

As  Eugenie  and  I  stood  together  on  the  pavement  near 
my  car,  we  heard  a  smothered,  terrifying  sound,  in- 
distinct at  first,  but  then  becoming  louder.  A  sound  of 
marching  feet,  a  chorus  of  shrill  angry  voices,  a  re- 
iterated cry.  Eugenie  had  turned  as  white  as  a  sheet 
and  was  clutching  my  arm. 

"Get  in,"  .she  muttered.     "Get  in.     Get  away." 

She  could  hardly  speak.  The  words  died  in  her  throat 
and  I  wondered  why  she  was  so  afraid. 

"What  are  they  saying  ?"  I  asked,  holding  up  my  hand 
as  one  does  when  one  wants  to  listen  and  another  person 
interrupts.  But  she  gave  me  a  shove  towards  my  car. 

"It  is  the  English  prisoners,"  she  said.  "They  are 
crying,  Zunt  Tode,  sum  Tode.  To  death  with  them." 


THE  DEVIL'S  CRADLE  243 


XLV 

EUGENIE  vanished.  I  suppose  she  fled  into  the 
shop  from  which  she  had  just  issued  and  I  for 
one  cannot  blame  her.  She  knew  her  country 
people  as  I  did  not  until  that  hour  was  past  and  I  had 
seen  men  and  women  of  all  classes  and  all  ages  in  a 
state  of  bestial  fury  that  felt  no  check  and  feared  no 
punishment.  For  these  exhibitions  were  permitted  and 
encouraged  or  they  could  not  have  taken  place.  The 
story  has  come  down  to  us  from  immemorial  times  of 
prisoners  conducted  at  the  conqueror's  heels  in  a  tri- 
umphal progress:  but  I  cannot  remember  one  in  which 
the  mob  was  allowed  to  attack  these  prisoners  with  every 
form  of  outrage  and  insult.  That  dishonor  seems  to 
have  been  reserved  for  the  Huns  of  the  twentieth  century, 
and  to  my  dying  day  I  shall  be  haunted  by  the  picture 
of  it. 

I  did  not  feel  afraid  for  myself.  I  forgot  myself  and 
so  would  you  have  done  if  you  had  heard  that  roar 
and  seen  that  obscene  mob  approaching.  In  the  center 
marched  ragged,  blood-stained,  starving  Englishmen. 
Englishmen,  I  say,  because  the  word  comes  to  one's  lips. 
But  some  wore  the  kilt  and  carried  themselves  proudly; 
some  were  from  overseas,  and  the  one  I  spoke  to  had 
an  Irish  tongue.  I  know  now,  but  I  did  not  know  then, 
that  wounded  and  unwounded  had  traveled  here  in  cattle 
trucks  where  they  had  neither  food  nor  water,  nor  even 
the  opportunity  to  relieve  nature.  Through  long  days 
and  nights  they  had  lain  in  filth  and  darkness,  unfed  and 


244  THE  DEVIL'S  CRADLE 

unattended,  spat  at,  beaten,  deluged  with  dirty  water 
for  the  amusement  of  the  Cologne  crowd.    By  the  time 
they  got  to  Reichenstadt  many  who  might  have  recovered 
had  died:  others  were  raving  in  delirium  and  beyond 
all  help.    Those  who  could  stand  were  kicked  and  sabered 
into  some  sort  of  order,  and  accompanied  by  an  escort 
who  used  their  bayonets  to  prick  them  on,  but  not  to 
protect  them,   they  started  on  their  long  march   from 
the  station  to  the  prison  camp  on  the  other  side  of  the 
town.     You  would  have  thought  that  men  so  starved 
and  shamefully  abused,  would  have  lost  all  spirit.     But 
my  countrymen  had  not.     They  held  up  their  heads, 
marched  with  a  swing  when  they  could  and  looked  at 
their  tormentors  with  set  lips  and  steady  eyes.    I  could 
see  as  they  came  past  that  there  were  men  of  all  ranks 
present,  officers,   N.   C.   O.'s  and  privates,  whole  men 
and  lame  ones,  men  sick  and  shivering  with  fever,  and 
men  weak  with  starvation  but  otherwise  whole.    There 
were  people  of  all  classes  amongst  the  crowd,  too,  and 
women  with  the  badge  of  the  Red  Cross.     I  saw  an 
officer  wearing  the  Kaiser's  uniform  snatch  an  eye-glass 
from  an  English  officer's  eye  and  grind  it  beneath  his 
heel,  screaming  some  word  of  coarse  abuse  at  the  Eng- 
lishman as  he  did  so.    The  screaming  went  on  the  whole 
time  and  the  women  joined  in  it  and  the  children.     I 
saw  weak  men  who  could  hardly  stand  prodded  with 
bayonets  and  I  saw  others  beaten  with  the  sticks  they 
had  carried  to  help  themselves  along.     Then  I  saw  a 
small  vixenish  German  woman,  who  might  have  been 
Frau  Mink,  run  up  to  a  man  hobbling  along  painfully 
on  crutches  and  kick  them  one  after  the  other   from 
under  his  arms.     He  fell  right  in  front  of  my  car,  and 


THE  DEVIL'S  CRADLE  245 

I  jumped  out  and  tried  to  help  him  to  get  up:  while  the 
woman  belabored  us  both  with  one  of  the  crutches  and 
other  people  surrounded  us,  yelling  something  about 
swine. 

"Cowards!  Brutes!"  I  cried,  and  for  a  moment  I 
stood  there  defending  my  fallen  man,  and  in  such  a 
blaze  of  fury  that  they  stepped  back  and  stared.  They 
looked  horrible,  those  people,  with  their  hot  distorted 
faces,  coarse  features  and  shapeless  figures.  The  very 
children  were  in  a  wicked  mood  and  given  up  to  per- 
secution. 

"Englishwoman!  Englishwoman!"  they  began  to 
scream  and  closed  dangerously  around  us. 

"Run  away,  darlint,  the  divils  will  kill  ye  and  ye're 
too  pretty  to  be  kilt,"  whispered  my  man,  and  actually 
winked  at  me  with  a  merry  blue  eye  as  he  lay  on  the 
ground.  So  I  knew  that  he  was  an  Irishman. 

Then  there  was  a  moment  of  indescribable  confusion 
when  everything  that  happened  seemed  to  happen  at 
once  and  reach  a  climax.  The  prisoners  continued  their 
march  past,  and  some  of  them,  catching  sight  of 
me,  kissed  their  hands  and  started  singing  Tipperary. 
The  crowd  was  now  in  the  stone-throwing  stage,  and 
one  stone  caught  my  cheek  as  I  stood  there.  They 
were  roaring  with  enjoyment,  too,  and  more  numerous 
than  ever.  A  sergeant,  seeing  my  Irishman  prone  on 
the  ground,  came  up  to  him  and  with  my  assistance 
pulled  him  to  his  feet;  and  to  my  intense  relief  and 
amazement  I  suddenly  saw  Mr.  Van  Brunt.  He  came 
out  of  a  hotel  next  to  the  shop  I  had  been  in  with 
Eugenie  and  he  came  towards  me.  He  acted  before  he 
spoke,  too.  One  crutch  was  out  of  the  woman's  hand 


246  THE  DEVIL'S  CRADLE 

before  she  knew  what  was  going  to  happen,  the  other 
was  picked  up  and  put  under  the  Irishman's  arm  again, 
several  people  pressing  on  us  were  shoved  back  so 
suddenly  that  there  was  a  little  space  between  the  mob 
and  me,  I  found  myself  in  my  car  and  Mr.  Van  Brunt, 
having  started  the  engine,  was  in  the  driver's  seat  and 
smoothly  going  on,  while  the  men  and  women  within 
reach  yelled  "Lusitania"  and  " Amerikaner"  after  him 
and  snapped  their  ringers  at  him  in  a  derisive  way  I 
have  only  seen  in  Germany.  Also  they  threw  stones  at 
us,  and  an  elderly  man  with  a  paunch  and  a  long  Tirpitz 
beard  struck  at  me  with  his  stick  and  brought  it  heavily 
on  my  shoulder.  I  am  ashamed  to  say  I  screamed  with 
pain.  It  took  me  by  surprise  or  I  don't  think  I  would 
have  done,  for  the  people  near  enough  to  hear  literally 
danced  with  delight  and  rocked  themselves  to  and  fro 
with  laughter;  while  the  Englishmen  who  saw  it  made 
a  start  forward  as  if  they  would  defend  me,  and  were 
thrust  back  by  their  guards,  who  seemed  sometimes  to 
use  their  bayonets  and  sometimes  the  butt  ends  of  their 
rifles.  It  was  all  over  in  a  moment  and  the  howling, 
roaring,  crazy  crowd  was  behind  us,  and  we  were  on 
a  quiet  high  road  with  the  hot  May  sunshine  streaming 
into  the  car  and  throwing  its  warmth  and  glory  over  us. 
But  I  broke  down  and  wept  bitterly  because  I  had  seen 
my  countrymen  given  up  to  the  wolves,  and  could  not 
help  them.  I  saw  their  tortured  faces,  the  hunted  look 
in  their  deep-set  eyes,  their  blood-stained  bandages,  their 
ragged,  mud-caked  clothes,  their  sticks  and  crutches. 
Would  they  find  relief  and  comfort  when  they  reached 
the  camp?  Would  they  be  fed  and  washed  and  tended 


THE  DEVIL'S  CRADLE  247 

there?  All  the  tales  that  had  reached  me  filled  me  with 
unbearable  misgivings. 

We  were  half  way  towards  Hohenroda  before  Mr. 
Van  Brunt  stopped  the  car,  and  until  then  he  had  not 
turned  his  head  my  way  once.  I  had  hardly  thought  of 
him,  I  was  so  overwrought  and  miserable;  but  now  he 
got  down  and  spoke  to  me.  When  we  met  last  Wolfram 
was  alive  and  the  world  was  not  at  war.  Now  I  had 
been  a  widow  for  ten  months  and  I  still  wore  deep 
mourning.  He  had  never  written  to  me  since  we  parted, 
but  I  thought  he  must  have  heard  of  what  had  hap- 
pened. Wolfram  was  a  well-known  man  at  Bertholds- 
ruhe  and  his  duel  with  Baron  v.  Osthofen  just  before 
war  broke  out  had  been  one  of  the  violent  events  that 
seem  to  happen  on  the  eve  of  war,  when  men  are  strain- 
ing at  the  leash  and  readier  than  usual  to  spring  at  each 
other. 

"What  about  your  shoulder?"  he  asked. 

"I  don't  think  any  bones  are  broken." 

"It's  hurting  you?" 

"It's  nothing." 

"I  wish  I  could  have  smashed  the  old  satyr's  head. 
But  if  we  had  stayed  another  minute  they  would  have 
lynched  us." 

I  shuddered  at  the  thought  of  it,  and  I  suppose  I 
looked  pretty  sick  and  gone  to  pieces. 

"You  ought  to  go  back  to  England,"  he  said. 


248  THE  DEVIL'S  CRADLE 


XLVI 

WE  stayed  there  by  the  roadside  and  he  told  me 
things  about  the  war  that  I  had  not  known; 
things  that  did  not  get  into  the  German  papers 
because  they  would  have  depressed  the  German  people. 
It  thrilled  me  to  hear  about  Kitchener's  army  and  its 
growing  strength  and  size.  England  was  awake,  he  said, 
and  it  was  the  cruelties  in  Belgium,  in  the  prisoners' 
camps,  and  on  the  high  seas  that  had  waked  her.  We 
agreed  that  these  deeds  would  live  from  generation  to 
generation,  and  that  the  name  of  Germany  would  be 
accursed  and  dishonored  as  the  name  of  sixteenth-century 
Spain  is  in  the  Netherlands  to  this  day.  Then  I  said 
what  everyone  in  England  was  saying  at  that  time : 

"Why  is  America  silent?  Why  is  she  not  standing 
by  our  side?" 

He  answered  as  a  diplomatist  could,  discreetly,  and 
with  some  explanation  of  difficulties;  but  I  got  the  im- 
pression that  he  was  heart  and  soul  with  us,  and  that 
most  of  his  countrymen  were,  too.  Then  he  told  me 
that  he  was  in  Reichenstadt  on  purpose  to  make  enquiries 
about  the  prisoners'  camp,  and  that  every  possible  ob- 
stacle was  being  put  in  his  way. 

"My  father-in-law  is  commandant,"  I  told  him ;  and  he 
said  he  knew  it,  but  had  not  succeeded  in  seeing  him 
yet. 

"Come  in  now,"  I  suggested,  for  he  was  going  to  drive 
me  home.  I  could  not  have  driven  myself.  My  shoulder 
had  become  extremely  painful,  so  much  so  that  I  sup- 


THE  DEVIL'S  CRADLE  249 

pose  I  began  to  look  uncomfortable  for  he  noticed  it 
and  said  we  would  go  on  at  once. 

It  was  late  afternoon  when  we  reached  Hohenroda  and 
the  Graf  and  Grafin  were  on  the  veranda;  for  in  South 
Germany  you  get  hot  summer  days  at  the  end  of  May. 
Mr.  Van  Brunt  and  I  walked  straight  out  there  and,  I 
dare  say,  startled  them;  for  he  was  a  stranger  and  ob- 
viously not  a  German;  and  I  looked  as  white  as  a  sheet, 
had  a  clot  of  blood  on  my  cheek,  my  hat  battered  by 
someone  in  the  crowd  who  had  clutched  at  it,  my  hair 
wildly  untidy  and  my  arm  and  shoulder  stiff  with  pain 
so  that  I  could  not  move  them.  I  presented  the  Ameri- 
can to  my  in-laws  and  my  in-laws  to  the  American. 
They  stared  at  him  and  they  stared  at  me;  and  their 
stares  were  expressive.  Where  had  I  picked  him  up? 
Why  did  I  bring  him  here?  Was  he  not  the  American 
about  whom  Ilgesheim  had  gossiped,  not  without  reason  ? 
Had  there  been  an  accident?  Or  one  of  those  regret- 
able  but  inevitable  encounters  between  patriots  and  alien 
enemies,  when,  the  patriots  being  many  and  the  enemies 
few,  the  enemy  got  the  worst  of  it? 

"What  has  happened?"  said  the  Grafin,  and  Mr.  Van 
Brunt  spoke  for  me,  for  now  that  I  had  reached  home 
I  was  at  the  end  of  my  tether  and  had  sunk  upon  a 
chair  feeling  too  exhausted  to  speak. 

"There  was  a  concerted  attack  by  the  mob  on  English 
prisoners,"  he  said  curtly.  "One  of  the  brutes  saw 
Grafin  Wolfram  go  to  the  assistance  of  a  wounded  man 
and  when  she  was  in  her  car  again  and  I  had  my  back 
turned  he  hit  at  her  with  his  stick.  Luckily  he  just 
missed  her  head." 

"We  live  in  a  great  hour,  but  terrible  things  take 


250  THE  DEVIL'S  CRADLE 

place,"  said  the  Grafin,  shaking  her  head  solemnly  from 
side  to  side. 

"My  daughter-in-law  will  not  go  to  Reichenstadt  again 
with  my  approval,"  said  the  Graf,  scowling  impartially 
at  us  all.  "What  was  she  doing  there  and  how  is  it  that 
the  escort  allowed  her  to  approach  a  prisoner?  Such  a 
thing  is  against  all  discipline." 

"One  of  your  Red  Cross  harpies  had  kicked  his 
crutches  away  and  was  beating  him  with  one  as  he  lay 
on  the  ground,"  I  said,  rousing  myself.  "Is  that  against 
discipline,  too?" 

The  Graf  shrugged  his  shoulders  and  looked  in- 
credulous. 

"The  people  are  in  an  excited  state,"  said  the  Grafin. 

I  got  up  and  went  indoors.  I  knew  that  Mr.  Van 
Brunt  wished  to  talk  to  the  Graf,  and  I  wanted  to  find 
Wilkins  and  put  myself  in  her  hands.  When  she  was 
very  sorry  indeed  for  me,  she  called  me  her  lamb  and 
forgot  to  be  stand-offish,  and  my  shoulder  was  hurting 
so  much  that  I  wanted  to  be  tended  and  petted.  Yet 
what  was  my  hurt  and  why  should  I  have  every  comfort 
and  luxury  my  bruised  body  needed,  while  those  English- 
men I  had  seen  to-day  .  .  . 

"Do  you  think  they  have  hot  baths  at  the  camp?"  I 
asked  anxiously. 

"They've  lice,"  said  Wilkins.  "Lice  and  moldy  bread 
and  tainted  meat,  I'm  told.  Good  enough  for  the  English 
swine,  they  say." 

Her  voice  trembled  with  indignation  as  it  always  did 
when  she  talked  about  the  prisoners'  camp  and  the 
stories  she  heard  about  it ;  stories  the  Germans  were  ap- 
parently not  ashamed  to  tell. 


THE  DEVIL'S  CRADLE  251 

I  sat  near  the  open  windows  of  my  sitting-room  and 
looked  out  at  the  view  Wolfram  and  I  had  often  looked 
at  together,  and  though  I  grieved  that  he  was  dead  and 
I  without  him,  I  thought  that  he  had  been  saved  from 
seeing  his  wife  beaten  and  cursed  by  his  countrymen  and 
his  nation  infamous  in  war.  My  shoulder  was  so  swollen 
and  painful  that  I  had  not  put  on  a  frock  again,  but 
sat  there  in  a  pale  pink  wrap  that  was  quite  presentable 
but  not  of  the  usual  raven  black  that  I  wore  more  to 
please  the  Hohenrodas  than  myself.  I  had  seen  in  the 
glass  that  I  looked  white  and  ill,  but  I  had  refused  to 
go  straight  to  bed  as  Wilkins  wished.  In  fact,  if  I  had 
been  able  to  get  my  arm  into  a  sleeve  or  had  possessed 
a  black  elegance  of  the  kind  I  now  wore,  I  should  prob- 
ably have  gone  downstairs  again  to  see  Mr.  Van  Brunt. 
I  was  just  thinking  so  when  the  door  opened  and  he 
came  in,  accompanied  by  Max.  I  was  rather  surprised 
that  they  had  been  allowed  to  come  up  here,  but  he  said 
at  once  that  Max  and  he  had  met  outside  and  that  he 
had  proposed  it. 

"But  I  cannot  stay,"  Max  said  anxiously  to  me.  "I 
have  not  begun  my  school  work  yet." 

So  the  boy  ran  off,  leaving  Mr.  Van  Brunt  and  me 
by  ourselves,  and  me  a  ten  months'  widow  in  pale  pink, 
and  the  afternoon  sun  shining  into  a  very  attractive 
room  with  big  bowls  of  lilac  and  lilies-of-the-valley  to 
scent  it.  Perhaps  we  were  together  for  five  minutes. 
At  any  rate  he  had  time  to  say  that  if  I  wished  to  go 
to  England,  he  would  do  his  best  to  help  me  and  that 
he  expected  to  be  off  and  on  in  Reichenstadt  during  the 
summer.  He  told  me  where  he  always  stayed  there,  and 
that  in  Bertholdsruhe  letters  and  telegrams  should  go  to 


252  THE  DEVIL'S  CRADLE 

the  American  embassy;  and  he  reminded  me  that  any- 
thing that  I  sent  by  post  or  telegraph  went  through  Ger- 
man hands. 

"I'm  safe  enough  up  here,"  I  said.  "I  need  not  go 
to  Reichenstadt  again." 

He  hesitated  a  little,  looked  at  me  as  if  he  felt  anxious 
about  me  and  would  have  liked  to  have  called  me  his 
lamb,  and  said  finally: 

"May  I  come  and  see  you  sometimes?" 

"Why  not?"  I  said  lightly. 

He  had  just  saved  my  life  and  even  if  he  had  not, 
the  sight  of  him  refreshed  and  heartened  me.  I  loved 
the  sound  of  my  own  tongue  as  he  spoke  it  with  the 
slight  educated  American  inflection  that  seemed  to  give 
everything  he  said  point  and  humor ;  I  felt  at  home  with 
him,  and  I  appreciated  the  grave  chivalry  of  his  man- 
ner which  was  as  far  removed  from  the  gallantry  of  a 
Baron  Osthofen  as  the  courtesy  and  bravery  of  a  Lord 
Roberts  are  removed  from  the  brutalities  of  a  Stengel  or 
a  Bissing.  Yet  my  tone  was  not  over-cordial  and  my  re- 
sponse to  his  proposal  did  not  reflect  my  real  feelings; 
because  I  knew  that  the  Hohenrodas  would  probably 
object  to  entertaining  him,  and  I  was  in  their  house  and 
not  in  my  own.  But  he  looked  so  disappointed  and  so 
surprised  that  I  had  to  explain  myself. 

"I'm  not  my  own  mistress  here,"  I  began. 

"Is  that  it?"  he  said,  understanding  at  once,  and  I 
nodded ;  and  before  he  spoke  again  both  the  Hohenrodas 
came  into  the  room;  and  I  was  in  pale  pink;  and  Mr. 
Van  Brunt,  who  had  bid  them  good-bye  and  gone  out 
at  the  front  door,  sat  there  with  me.  Moreover,  he  did 
not  look  in  the  least  concerned  or  embarrassed.  He 


DiLViL'b  CRAULK  253 

got  up  when  he  saw  the  Grafin,  offered  her  his  chair, 
took  another  himself,  and  said  that,  as  my  shoulder 
was  so  painful,  he  thought  I  ought  to  see  a  doctor,  and 
that  if  they  pleased  he  would  call  on  ours  when  he  got 
back  to  Reichenstadt  and  shoot  him  along. 


XLVII 

1  LAUGHED  at  his  phrase  and  my  in-laws  looked  at 
me  stonily. 
"We  came  up  here  to  inquire  after  your  shoulder, 
Karen?"  said  the  Grafin.    "If  it  is  necessary  to  have  the 
doctor  ..." 

She  was  a  stupid  woman,  but  she  had  some  personal 
dignity  and  breeding;  and  she  would  not  have  put  her 
foot  into  it  as  her  husband  did  the  next  moment.  He 
turned  his  bullet  head  towards  the  American,  and  said 
in  a  parade  voice  meant  to  frighten  and  impress: 

"How  did  you  find  your  way  up  here,  Mr.  Van 
Brunt?" 

"Your  grandson  showed  me,"  said  the  American.  He 
did  not  get  up  to  go  at  once  although  the  Graf's  tone 
must  have  informed  him  clearly  enough  that  he  was  not 
wanted.  He  stayed  on  for  a  minute  or  two,  talking 
pleasantly  to  the  Grafin,  and  then  at  his  own  time  took 
leave,  departing  with  flying  colors,  a  man  of  the  world 
and  a  gentleman.  I  wondered  what  he  thought  of  the 
highly  born  boor  in  whose  castle  I  was  henceforth  a 
prisoner.  For  directly  he  was  out  of  hearing  the  Graf 
laid  down  the  law  for  me.  I  was  never  again  to  show 


254  THE  DEVIL'S  CRADLE 

myself  in  Reichenstadt  until  the  war  was  over,  and  if 
I  wanted  a  long  walk  or  drive  I  must  take  it  in  the 
opposite  direction. 

"An  Englishwoman  who  assists  a  prisoner  of  war  risks 
her  life,"  he  lectured;  "not  only  at  the  hands  of  the 
crowd,  but  officially.  If  any  officer  had  seen  you  ..." 

"The  officers  were  busy,"  I  said.  "Some  were 
in  the  crowd  helping  to  throw  mud  and  stones;  and 
£ome  were  using  their  sticks  and  the  butts  of  their  re- 
volvers." 

"To  defend  their  prisoners,"  said  the  Grafin  reprov- 
ingly. 

,  "Not  at  all.  To  prod  them  on.  The  Englishmen  were 
wounded  and  weak  and  starving,  you  see  .  .  ." 

I  don't  know  whether  it  was  pity  or  anger  that  choked 
me.  It  may  well  have  been  both.  The  Grafin  looked 
at  her  husband  as  if  to  ask  him  whether  I  was  telling 
the  truth;  and  the  Graf  made  a  gobbling  sound  in  his 
throat  and  muttered  something  about  swine. 

"Will  they  be  looked  after  when  they  get  to  the  camp 
that  you  command?"  I  said,  and  I  dare  say  I  spoke 
fiercely.  "Will  they  have  doctors  and  food  and  baths 
as  German  prisoners  in  England  have?" 

"How  do  you  know  anything  about  German  prisoners 
in  England  ?  You  are  not  there." 

"I  know  my  country." 

"Papperlapap,"  he  said,  which  means  nonsense  and 
is  rude. 

"I  hear  stories  of  what  happens  on  the  German  trains 
and  in  the  camps,"  I  continued. 

"Who  tells  them?" 

"Frau  Mink,  Frau  v.  Gosen,  Wilkins,  who  hears  them 


THE  DEVIL'S  CRADLE  255 

told  without  shame  downstairs.  Yet  they  are  stories  of 
such  incredible  cruelty,  meanness  and  dirtiness  .  .  , 
yes,  dirtiness  .  .  .  that  if  my  own  eyes  had  not  seen 
to-day  and  my  own  ears  heard  ,  .  ." 

"War  is  war,"  said  the  Graf. 

"War  is  no  excuse  for  such  stories  as  I  am  told,"  I 
said  heatedly.  "If  they  are  true  they  stamp  you  for 
the  most  brutal  and  uncivilized  race  in  Europe." 

"Peace,  woman,"  shouted  the  Graf,  lumbering  to  his 
feet  and  shaking  his  fist  at  me. 

"Take  me  to  your  camp.  Show  me  the  prisoners  I 
saw  to-day,  clothed  and  clean,  decently  housed  and 
fed  .  .  ." 

"Take  care!"  shouted  the  Graf,  shouting  me  down. 
"There  is  a  limit  to  what  I  will  endure  and  you  have 
reached  it."  He  went  on  for  quite  a  long  time  after 
that,  going  back  to  past  history  and  telling  me  that,  in 
spite  of  my  money,  he  had  been  violently  opposed  to 
my  marriage  with  his  son,  because  he  had  the  lowest 
opinion  of  Englishwomen;  and  that  he  had  never  ap- 
proved of  me;  and  that  if  Wolfram  had  married  a 
German  he  might  now  be  alive  and  defending  his  Father- 
land against  bandits  leagued  together  to  destroy  it.  His 
bellowing  voice  seemed  to  get  further  and  further  away 
and  what  he  said  began  to  be  all  sound  and  fury.  I  shut 
my  eyes  .  .  , 

"Here's  the  doctor,  my  lamb,"  said  Wilkins,  and  there 
was  I  in  bed  with  her  bending  over  me,  and  Dr.  Marwitz 
asking  in  his  gruff  friendly  voice  what  I  had  been  doing 
now.  I  was  so  vexed  with  myself.  I  to  stand  up  for 
my  countrymen!  I  to  help  them  and  fight  for  them! 
And  Fd  fainted  at  the  sound  of  a  noisy  voice,  and  lay 


256  THE  DEVIL'S  CRADLE 

in  bed,  with  my  faithful  maid  coddling  me,  and  a  dom- 
ineering doctor  calling  his  countryfolk  a  pack  of  swine 
when  he  saw  my  shoulder,  and  ordering  me  to  stay  in 
bed  till  he  saw  it  again.  I  suppose  I  was  feverish  and 
wandering  for  a  day  or  two,  for  there  was  a  pink  silk 
eiderdown  that  worried  me  day  and  night.  I  wanted 
it  to  cover  the  Irishman  with  the  crutches,  and  tried  to 
send  it  to  him,  and  could  not  make  Wilkins  understand. 
When  I  told  her  what  I  wanted  she  shook  her  head. 

"They've  got  the  fever  at  the  camp  now,"  she  said. 
"They're  dying  like  flies.  The  Germans  won't  go  inside." 

I  didn't  understand  what  she  meant  and  I  was  still 
too  weak  and  feverish  to  ask  many  questions.  But  when 
I  got  well,  the  Grafin  told  me  that  there  had  been  an 
epidemic  in  the  camp  and  that  the  Graf  had  been  anxious 
lest  it  should  spread  to  the  town;  and  when  I  got  back 
to  England  I  heard  that  what  happened  at  Wittenberg  had 
happened  at  Reichenstadt,  and  I  had  to  tell  English 
people  that  no  one  I  met  in  Germany  seemed  to  care 
or  feel  in  the  least  ashamed.  They  were  everlastingly 
celebrating  victories,  and  I  have  not  told  you  yet  what  a 
hullaballoo  there  was  just  before  Christmas  over  the 
bombardment  of  the  Yorkshire  coast  and  the  massacre 
of  the  innocents  in  Scarborough,  Whitby  and  the  Hartle- 
pools.  They  did  not  call  it  a  massacre  of  the  innocents, 
they  said  the  invincible  German  fleet  had  attacked 
English  fortified  towns  and  destroyed  the  fortifications. 

"Glorious  news,"  said  the  Graf,  who  brought  it  back 
with  him. 

"But  Scarborough  and  Whitby  are  not  fortified,"  I 
said.  "They  are  open  towns.  I  know  them  both  well." 


THE  DEVIL'S  CRADLE  257 

'  "They  are  fortified,"  said  the  Graf.  "The  official 
telegram  says  so." 

"Our  official  telegrams  do  not  lie,"  said  the  Grafin. 

But  you  can  imagine  what  Wilkins  said  when  she 
heard  of  it,  and  of  what  went  on  below  stairs.  Scar- 
borough and  Whitby  fortified  towns !  Didn't  she  know 
every  inch  of  them? 

"It  shows  how  ignorant  they  are,"  she  remarked.  "I 
wonder  if  they  killed  anyone?" 

They  didn't  tell  us  that  in  the  German  papers,  but 
they  had  a  great  deal  to  say  about  the  cowardice  and 
incompetence  of  the  British  navy  that  was  always  in 
hiding  when  the  Germans  came  out.  Even  when  they 
spoke  of  the  battle  of  the  Falkland  Islands,  they  gave 
the  credit  to  the  Japanese.  How  I  longed  for  an 
English  paper  day  by  day,  and  how  difficult  it  was  not 
to  lose  heart.  I  could  not  believe  as  Wilkins  did,  easily 
and  cheerfully,  that  everything  a  German  said  was  a 
lie. 

"People  as  will  say  Scarborough  and  Whitby  are  forti- 
fied will  say  anything,"  she  maintained,  and  I  certainly 
found  when  I  met  Mr.  Van  Brunt  that  I  had  not  been 
told  the  truth  about  any  event  of  the  war.  I  had  not 
even  heard  of  the  battle  of  the  Marne. 

Towards  the  end  of  June  my  shoulder  had  healed, 
and  I  was  able  to  drive  a  car  again.  I  went  as  near  as 
I  dared  to  the  prisoners'  camp  once  or  twice,  but  I  could 
only  see  the  guns  trained  on  it,  sentries  mounting  guard 
and  men  in  various  uniforms  walking  about.  I  could 
not  get  any  information  of  what  was  happening  there 
except  through  Wilkins,  and  she  got  hers  from  sources 
I  was  not  inclined  to  trust.  I  wished  I  could  see  Mr. 


258  THE  DEVIL'S  CRADLE 

Van  Brunt  again,  but  I  did  not  know  how  to  manage 
it.  I  could  not  ask  him  to  Hohenroda  or  go  to  see  him 
at  Reichenstadt.  The  summer  dragged  on,  bringing  with 
it  crowded  memories  of  a  year  ago  when  Wolfram  had 
been  alive  and  the  world  at  peace.  On  the  anniversary 
of  his  death,  I  went  with  his  parents  and  Max  to  his 
grave,  but  I  wished  I  could  have  gone  alone.  I  felt 
myself  an  unwelcome  and  suspected  member  of  their 
household  now  and  their  genuine  grief  for  their  son  did 
not  soften  their  hearts  towards  me.  On  the  contrary. 
They  regarded  me  as  responsible  for  his  death  because 
it  had  come  about  through  a  quarrel  over  Englishwomen. 


XLVIII 

1HAD  been  more  than  two  years  in  Germany:  for  I 
had  arrived  at  Hohenroda  early  in  August,  and  it  was 
a  late  August  morning  when  I  kept  an  old  promise 
to  Wilkins  and  set  out  to  show  her  the  caves  Max  had 
shown  me  long  ago.  I  had  not  seen  Mr.  Van  Brunt 
again,  but  I  wanted  so  much  to  see  him  that  I  had  written 
to  tell  him  of  our  expedition  and  suggested  that  if  he 
had  time  he  might  meet  us  at  a  point  in  the  road  close 
to  the  caves.  Ever  since  we  had  met  in  Reichenstadt 
the  idea  of  getting  back  to  England  had  taken  life  in 
my  mind  and  become  stronger  than  any  other  wish  I 
had.  If  you  have  never  been  an  exile  amongst  enemies 
you  cannot  understand  how  homesick  I  was  and  how 
I  was  pursued  by  the  sights  and  sounds  and  ways  of 
England — my  England.  My  affection  for  Max  had  not 


THE  DEVIL'S  CRADLE  259 

lessened,  but  I  was  no  longer  ready  to  stay  at  Hohenroda 
for  his  sake  and  I  knew  I  could  not  take  him  with  me. 
His  grandparents  were  his  guardians,  he  was  well  and 
happy  now  although  he  was  still  overworked  at  times; 
and  he  would  some  day  be  Graf  v.  Hohenroda.  I  could 
picture  the  affectionate  friendship  that  would  exist  be- 
tween us  throughout  life  and  how  in  happier  times  he 
would  visit  me  in  England  and  I  should  go  to  him  at 
Hohenroda.  But  I  knew  that  I  as  an  Englishwoman 
could  never  make  my  home  amongst  Germans  again  and 
I  was  on  fire  to  get  away.  I  tell  you  all  this  so  that 
you  should  understand  why  I  wrote  to  Mr.^Van  Brunt 
and  asked  him  to  meet  me  near  the  caves.  I  knew  he 
would  help  me  if  he  could  and  that  he  would  be  cool 
and  wide-awake  about  it.  He  often  reminded  me  of 
Dad,  but  he  never  said  Shucks!  or  used  any  of  the 
picturesque  but  startling  expressions  we  expect  of  our 
cousins.  He  laughed  when  I  told  him  so,  and  said  I 
might  as  well  expect  an  Oxford  don  to  talk  like  a  bargee. 
Wilkins,  Fritz  and  I  set  out  early  after  breakfast  and 
we  carried  our  lunch  with  us:  plenty  of  it  in  case  we 
should  have  four  to  feed  instead  of  three.  It  was  a 
blazing  hot  day  but  we  walked  slowly,  and  mostly  in 
the  shade.  I  could  have  taken  her  by  road  in  the  car, 
but  we  both  liked  the  idea  of  the  long  walk  through 
the  forest  first  and  then  across  the  wild  broken  heather 
country  that  I  had  only  seen  in  its  late-autumn  dress. 
The  tremendous  heat  rather  doubled  us  up  at  the  end 
of  the  morning,  for  it  was  more  than  anything  we  ever 
felt  at  home  and  I  understood  why  the  Graf  and  Grafin 
had  told  me  that  Germans  got  up  at  five  for  such  a 
walk  and  were  not  so  silly  as  to  be  in  the  midst  of  it 


2<5o  THE  DEVIL'S  CRADLE 

at  midday.  However,  we  trudged  along  silently  and 
Fritz  had  his  tongue  out,  but  I  will  say  for  ourselves 
that  we  did  not  puff  and  blow  and  grumble  as  I  have 
heard  Germans  do  when  the  heat  afflicted  them.  I  used 
to  dread  sitting  with  my  in-laws  this  weather  because 
the  Grafin  would  heave  a  long  sigh  every  minute  or  so 
and  moan  "Ach!  diese  Hitze"  and  the  Graf  would  drink 
glass  after  glass  of  a  foaming  beer  with  gurgling  noises 
in  his  throat  that  ought  not  to  have  got  on  my  nerves, 
but  somehow  did.  I  liked  getting  right  away  from  the 
house  for  once  with  no  Germans  near  us  to  spy  and 
listen;  and  I  think  Wilkins  enjoyed  it,  too,  for  while 
we  were  in  the  forest  she  looked  quite  cheerful  and 
talked  about  the  Duchess.  She  was  sure  the  Duchess 
would  be  doing  more  for  the  sick  and  wounded  soldiers 
than  the  Grafin  did,  she  said.  And  when  we  got  to  the 
high  road  that  passed  by  the  caves  there  was  Mr.  Van 
Brunt  in  his  big  traveling  car;  and  he  had  brought 
lunch,  too,  and  two  bottles  of  champagne.  It  was  a 
picnic. 

It  was  so  burning  hot  that  we  decided  we  would  carry 
our  food  and  wine  just  inside  the  big  cave  and  have  it 
there  in  the  cool  and  the  twilight.  The  idea  of  drip- 
ping icy  stalactites  was  delicious  and  I  said  I  would 
break  the  tip  of  one  off  and  put  it  in  my  glass.  We 
were  in  good  spirits  when  we  met  because  we  were 
glad  to  see  each  other  and  glad  to  be  out  of  the  burn- 
ing sun  and  able  to  eat  and  drink  when  we  were  hungry 
and  thirsty.  Occasionally  the  sorrow  and  terror  of  the 
time  would  be  put  behind  one  in  this  way  for  a  while 
and  I  think  such  interludes  help  to  keep  us  sane;  so 
that  even  when  I  see  a  crowd  at  a  theater  door  I  can- 


THE  DEVIL'S  CRADLE  261 

not  condemn  them,  but  believe  that  if  you  could  lopk 
into  their  hearts  you  would  find  that  each  one  had  its 
load  of  anxiety  or  weariness  and  had  come  there  for  an 
hour  of  escape. 

We  stayed  quite  near  the  wide  door  of  the  main  cave 
because  we  wanted  to  be  in  the  light,  and^  as  it  was 
past  our  usual  lunch  time  we  set  to  at  once,  unpacking 
Mr.  Van  Brunt's  hamper  and  our  own  packages.  He 
had  brought  enough  and  more  than  enough  for  us  all, 
because,  he  said,  I  had  told  him  that  I  was  going  to 
walk  and  he  knew  I  could  not  carry  much.  He  had 
thought  of  things  like  chocolate  and  peaches,  too,  while 
we  had  only  brought  what  the  little  Mamsell  gave  us: 
solid  chunks  of  gray  bread  and  butter  with  slices  an 
inch  thick  of  liver  sausage  in  between ;  the  whole  wrapped 
in  that  rough,  thick  gray  paper  Germans  use.  Wilkins 
chose  to  sit  a  little  apart  from  us  and  I  was  in  the 
midst  of  telling  her  not  to  be  silly  and  refuse  the  glass 
of  champagne  Mr.  Van  Brunt  was  holding  out  to  her 
when  Fritz,  who  had  been  sniffing  round  the  floor  of 
the  cave  a  little  further  in,  began  to  bark  loudly.  Fritz 
had  become  so  much  my  dog  that  I  knew  his  language  and 
understood  that  he  had  found  something  or  someone  he 
did  not  like  and  was  giving  me  warning.  I  guessed  at 
other  visitors  further  down  the  cave  and  called  him  to 
me.  He  understood  English,  but  at  any  rate  "Come 
here!"  is  much  the  same  in  both  languages. 

"Come  here!  Fritz,"  I  commanded. 

"I'll  fetch  him,"  said  Mr.  Van  Brunt,  getting  up ;  but 
as  he  rose  to  his  feet  Fritz  sidled  back  to  us,  still  pro- 
testing violently;  while  in  the  dimmer  light  behind  him 


262  THE  DEVIL'S  CRADLE 

we  were  amazed  to  see  two  men  supporting  each  other 
and  stumbling  slowly  and  very  feebly  towards  us. 

"What's  this?"  said  Mr.  Van  Brunt. 

I  had  been  feeling  so  lazy  and  bodily  content  that  I 
had  not  thought  to  stir  from  my  comfortable  corner  till 
I  must,  but  I  was  on  my  feet  in  a  moment  and  going 
with  Mr.  Van  Brunt  to  meet  the  two  men.  Wilkins 
was  on  her  feet,  too,  and  close  behind  us.  As  they 
came  nearer  we  saw  them  more  clearly  and  I  hope  you 
will  never  see  anyone  in  such  a  plight  because  you  can 
never  forget  it.  To  this  day  I  sometimes  meet  those 
men  in  that  cave  in  a  dream.  Their  clothes  were  un- 
cleanly rags,  their  cheeks  were  sunken,  their  eyes  wolfish 
with  hunger,  their  bodies  weak  and  thin.  They  looked 
terror-stricken,  too,  and  stupefied.  One  of  them  had  his 
arm  in  a  rough  sling  and  the  other  wore  a  dirty,  blood- 
stained bandage  round  his  head.  Their  boots  were  in 
such  a  state  that  their  bare  toes  protruded,  and  when 
they  spoke  their  voices  were  hoarse  and  low. 

"We  heard  English,"  said  one. 

"I'm  English,"  I  said.    "Who  are  you?" 

"We've  been  in  the  camp  ever  since  Mons,"  said  one. 
"We  got  away  in  the  dark." 

"How  long  have  you  been  here?"  asked  Mr.  Van 
Brunt. 

"Give  us  food,"  begged  the  other  man.  "We  are 
starving." 

They  shrank  back  into  the  twilight  from  which  they 
had  come  and  we  found  them  huddled  on  the  ground 
when  we  went  back  to  them  with  food  and  wine.  I  had 
brought  an  electric  torch  with  me  and  by  the  light  of 
it  we  fed  them.  I  think  they  would  have  died  there 


THE  DEVIL'S  CRADLE  263 

of  exhaustion  if  we  had  not  found  them  and  yet  they 
had  not  been  long  in  the  cave.  I  had  heard  stories  of 
the  mismanagement  and  brutalities  of  the  camp  for  nearly 
a  year,  but  nothing  I  heard  or  subsequently  read  made 
such  an  impression  as  the  sight  of  these  two  men  did: 
dirty,  ragged,  cowed  and  nearly  dead  of  hunger.  Mr. 
Van  Brunt  raised  his  hand  suddenly  to  get  hold  of  the 
bottle  of  wine  near  him  and  I  saw  one  of  them  start 
back  as  if  he  expected  to  be  struck.  He  was  the  strong- 
est and  the  sanest  of  the  two.  The  other  seemed  ill 
and  apathetic  even  after  he  had  eaten;  but  his  mate 
treated  him  with  affection  and  respect  and  I  soon 
gathered  that  there  was  a  difference  of  quality  between 
the  two,  and  that  the  rougher  man  had  a  big,  generous 
spirit.  He  could  have  got  farther  by  this  time,  but  he 
would  not  go  on  alone  and  someone  in  the  camp  had 
told  him  of  these  caves,  but  warned  him  they  would 
not  make  a  safe  hiding-place  for  long  because  at  any 
moment  visitors  might  appear  in  them. 


XLIX 

THEY  were  both  privates,  we  found,  and  you  could 
tell  by  his  speech  that  one  was  a  man  of  some 
education.    But  the  other  who  was  younger  did 
most  of  the  talking. 

"They  set  one  o'  their  big  dogs  on  my  mate  the  other 
night  and  he  got  bitten  in  the  arm,"  he  said  when  I 
asked  some  question  about  their  wounds.  "Wounds! 
There  wasn't  much  wounds  on  us  when  we  got  rounded 


264  THE  DEVIL'S  CRADLE 

up.  Two  hale  and  hearty  chaps  we  was  when  we  left 
Blighty  August  come  a  year,  and  now  look  at  us.  I 
want  to  get  'ome,  I  do,  and  show  myself  and  tell  'em 
what  these  devils  are  like.  Do  you  know  what  I  see 
with  my  own  eyes  as  we  come  on  through  France  ?" 

The  champagne  had  lit  him  for  the  time,  food  had 
given  him  strength  and  he  told  us  what  he  had  seen.  As 
his  regiment  went  forward  and  they  were  almost  at  grips 
with  the  enemy  some  French  women  and  children  fool- 
ishly ran  out  from  their  homes  to  welcome  them  and 
the  Germans,  seeing  this,  turned  their  machine-guns  on 
the  women  and  children  and  shot  them  down. 

"Put  up  their  arms  like  this  they  did  and  give  a 
screech  and  fell,"  said  the  boy:  for  he  was  only  a  boy. 
"Might  happen  in  Kent  where  I  come  from  if  we  let  'em 
land." 

You  could  tell  that  he  was  naturally  a  cheerful 
friendly  boy,  not  easily  stirred  to  anger  or  to  hate.  Even 
now  the  memory  of  those  murdered  women  and  children 
and  the  sight  of  his  friend's  sufferings  seemed  to  move 
him  more  than  what  he  had  undergone  himself. 

"What  about  your  head?"  said  Mr.  Van  Brunt.  "Who 
did  that?" 

"Butt  end  of  a  rifle,"  he  answered,  and  added  as  if 
in  explanation,  "Yer  see  I  don't  understand  their 
lingo." 

We  tried  to  make  out  what  their  plan  of  escape  was 
and  where  they  proposed  to  cross  the  frontier  and  we 
found  that  they  had  thought  out  these  details  with  the 
help  of  someone  in  the  camp  who  knew  the  neighbor- 
hood. They  were  going  to  hide  by  day  and  move  on 
by  night,  living  on  what  they  could  find  in  the  fields  and 


THE  DEVIL'S  CRADLE  265 

swimming  the  river  when  they  came  to  it.  They  had 
no  money  and  no  food  and  the  rags  they  stood  up  in 
were  khaki.  They  were  doomed  to  failure,  I  thought, 
and  so,  I  am  sure,  did  Mr.  Van  Brunt  though  he  did  not 
say  so.  But  he  gave  them  money  and  we  left  them 
every  scrap  of  food  we  had.  As  we  got  up  the  man 
who  had  hardly  spoken  got  up,  too,  to  big  us  good-bye 
and  the  light  fell  more  clearly  on  his  emaciated  face  and 
tragic  eyes.  Wilkins  had  hardly  spoken  all  this  time, 
but  now  she  plucked  at  my  sleeve  and  whispered  in 
my  ear: 

"Tell  'em  to  wait  down  there  in  the  dark,"  she  said, 
pointing  to  the  depths  of  the  cave.  "I'll  come  and  bring 
'em  some  clothes  and  food." 

"We'll  both  come,"  I  whispered,  "but  don't  say  any- 
thing to  Mr.  Van  Brunt."  He  had  gone  ahead  to  start 
his  car  in  which  he  had  offered  to  take  us  home. 

"Certainly  not,  m'm,  and  I  should  not  think  of  your 
coming,"  said  Wilkins  and  then  we  both  spoke  to  our 
countrymen  and  told  them  to  go  far  down  into  the  depths 
of  the  cave  and  wait  there  for  us  until  after  dark,  and 
I  left  them  my  electric  torch. 

I  had  not  got  into  Mr.  Van  Brunt's  car,  but  was 
standing  beside  it  while  Wilkins  put  in  the  empty  hamper 
and  arranged  a  light  summer  rug  for  me,  when  another 
car  came  rapidly  towards  us  and  slowing  down  a  little 
as  it  reached  the  caves,  passed  us  by.  In  it  sat  the 
Baroness  v.  Osthofen,  her  two  boys  and  Herr  Putzer. 
I  had  not  seen  the  Baroness  since  the  duel  between  her 
husband  and  mine,  and  she  stared  at  me  now  without 
recognition.  Eugenie  had  told  me  that  she  applauded 
her  husband's  deed  because  Wolfram  had  proved  him- 


266  THE  DEVIL'S  CRADLE 

self  an  enemy  of  his  country  by  marrying  an  English- 
woman and  defending  the  English.  Apparently  the  All- 
Highest  took  this  view,  too,  for  the  Baron  had  been 
rapidly  promoted  and  was  now  a  general  and  governor 
of  one  of  the  larger  Belgian  towns.  Since  then  I  have 
often  heard  his  name  spoken  in  connection  with  the  de- 
portations, with  levies  on  the  starving  population  and 
with  the  execution  of  women  and  young  girls.  You 
could  easily  imagine  him  saying  what  Count  Harrach 
said  when  Edith  Cavell  was  murdered :  "I  wish  we  had 
two  or  three  of  these  old  Englishwomen  to  shoot !" 

Herr  Putzer  did  not  follow  the  lead  of  the  Baroness 
and  refuse  me  recognition;  but  his  greeting  was  un- 
pleasantly derisive.  He  glared  at  me,  he  glared  at  Mr. 
Van  Brunt  and  he  took  off  his  hat  with  a  sweep  of  his 
arm  and  sneered  at  us.  Mr.  Van  Brunt's  eyes  followed 
the  receding  car  expressively,  but  he  said  nothing;  and 
when  we  started  I  talked  to  him,  as  far  as  you  can 
talk  to  anyone  driving  a  car,  about  my  return  to  Eng- 
land. For  I  had  left  Wilkins  in  the  back  of  the  car 
by  herself  and  taken  my  own  seat  in  front.  It  was 
a  heavenly  summer  afternoon  and  our  return  journey 
took  us  all  through  the  Hohenroda  valley.  The  air  was 
sweet  with  hay,  for  the  second  crop  had  just  been  cut 
and  added  its  fragrance  to  the  scent  of  the  forest  that 
covered  the  hills  on  either  side  of  us.  The  scene  was 
one  of  peace  and  beauty,  but  that  only  made  my  spirit 
heavier,  for  though  my  eyes  saw  the  glory  of  the  world 
my  mind  was  weighed  down  by  its  wickedness  and  the 
anguish  of  its  victims.  I  spoke  of  my  homesickness, 
but  I  spoke  half  heartedly,  for  I  could  think  of  nothing 
but  those  men  we  had  just  left,  their  slender  chances  of 


THE  DEVIL'S  CRADLE  267 

escape  and  the  savage  punishment  that  would  be  visited 
on  their  weak  suffering  bodies  if  they  were  caught.  The 
boy  who  had  talked  to  us  had  a  sensitive,  rather  girlish 
mouth  and  honest  eyes.  He  wasn't  married,  he  told  us, 
but  he  had  a  sweetheart  and  a  mother  waiting  at  home 
for  him.  They  had  sent  him  parcels  of  food  when  they 
could,  but  they  were  very  poor  now  and  unskillful 
packers.  Sometimes  a  package  would  arrive  with  its 
contents  lost  or  spoiled ;  but  his  mate  whose  people  were 
better  off  had  always  shared  his  parcels  with  him. 

"So  you  have  made  up  your  mind  to  get  back  to  Eng- 
land," said  Mr.  Van  Brunt  to  me. 

"I  want  to ;  but  how  can  I  ?" 

He  hardly  answered,  but  seemed  to  be  thinking  hard: 
and  I  hoped  lie  was  planning  my  way  of  escape;  but  he 
did  not  make  any  suggestions  that  afternoon  and  a  few 
minutes  later  we  were  within  sight  of  Hohenroda. 

"When  can  we  see  each  other  again?"  he  asked. 

"It  isn't  easy,"  I  said.  "I  can't  ask  you  to  Hohenroda 
because  my  in-laws  object  to  my  having  English  and 
American  friends." 

"We  might  meet  in  Reichenstadt." 

"I'm  forbidden  to  go  there  since  I  was  attacked  the 
other  day." 

"How  did  you  get  away  to-day?" 

"I  just  went.  When  they  hear  that  I  met  you,  there 
will  be  a  fuss." 

"How  will  they  hear?" 

"I  shall  tell  them.  I'm  not  afraid  of  them,  but  I  wish 
I  was  in  England." 

He  fell  to  brooding  again,  so  I  asked  him  if  he  had 


268  THE  DEVIL'S  CRADLE 

thought  of  any  plan  yet  that  would  set  me  free  to  travel 
across  the  German  frontier. 

"I've  thought  of  one,"  he  said  somberly. 

"Is  it  practicable  ?" 

"Quite;  if  you  consented  to  it." 

"I  would  consent  to  pretty  much  anything  that  took 
me  .  .  .  us,  I  mean,  to  England." 

He  slowed  down  the  car  and  turned  his  eyes  on  me 
with  such  wells  of  pleasure  and  surprise  in  them  that 
I  was  taken  aback. 

"Us,"  he  murmured.    "You  would  ..." 

"Wilkins  and  me,"  I  explained.  "I  can't  desert 
Wilkins." 

He  seemed  to  be  interested  in  the  speedometer  and 
I  waited  a  little  before  I  spoke  again. 

"But  what  is  your  plan?"  I  said.  "What  do  you  want 
me  to  do?  Dress  up  as  a  boy  or  peasant?  Or  hide  in 
a  hay-cart  like  the  refugees  in  The  Scarlet  Pimpernel? 
I'm  afraid  I've  not  courage  enough  for  that  kind  of 
escape.  I  sha'n't  sleep  to-night  for  thinking  of  those 
two  men  in  the  cave.  When  I  leave  Germany  I  mean 
to  leave  in  broad  daylight  with  my  passport  in  order  and 
my  trunks  in  the  luggage  van.  Can't  you  get  me  a 
passport  ?" 

He  shook  his  head  doubtfully  and  for  a  moment  we 
stood  there  together,  unwilling  to  separate,  unable  to  stay 
together.  I  dreaded  going  into  that  unfriendly  house 
from  his  strong  friendly  presence ;  but  there  was  nothing 
else  to  be  done. 


THE  DEVIL'S  CRADLE  269 


I  HAD  to  appear  at  supper,  and  I  found  the  atmos' 
phere  lowering  and  stormy.  The  Grafin  had  the 
pursed-up  mouth  that  denoted  anxiety.  Max 
looked  like  a  melancholy  Eschenau  and  hardly  spoke  and 
the  Graf  was  in  a  state  of  concentrated  fury.  He 
shoveled  food  into  his  mouth  as  if  he  were  stoking  a 
furnace,  swore  at  the  trembling  old  butler  and  more  or 
less  turned  his  back  on  me.  While  we  were  at  table  a 
telephone  message  came  that  he  had  to  attend  to  and 
when  he  returned  to  the  room  his  wife  looked  at  him 
inquiringly. 

"Not  yet,"  he  said,  "but  it  is  only  a  matter  of  time 
and  when  it  happens  ..." 

"Two  prisoners  have  escaped  from  the  camp,"  said 
the  Grafin,  turning  to  me,  and  as  I  had  prepared  myself 
to  hear  this  I  hope  that  I  kept  a  tolerably  composed 
countenance. 

"Which  way  have  they  gone?"  I  said,  and  my  in-laws 
both  stared  at  me  with  the  pity  and  contempt  English 
stupidity  rouses  in  the  highly  trained  German  mind. 

"Which  way  would  you  expect?"  said  the  Graf.  "To 
the  nearest  point  on  the  frontier,  of  course.  We  shall 
catch  them  to-morrow.  They  cannot  get  across.  The 
bridges  are  guarded.  The  river  is  swift." 

"What  will  happen  to  them?" 

"What  they  deserve.  Severe  punishment  if  they  come 
quietly,  death  if  they  resist." 

I  dare  say  I  gave  a  little  shiver.    I  tried  to  imagine 


270  THE  DEVIL'S  CRADLE 

myself  or  anyone  dear  to  me  in  the  clutches  of  that  old 
man  and  then  I  wondered  what  he  would  do  to  anyone 
who  helped  his  victims  to  escape. 

"Fools!"  he  went  on,  muttering  to  himself.  "They 
have  no  food,  no  money,  no  clothes,  and  anyone  who 
helps  them  will  be  shot." 

"Do  you  mean  to  say  that  if  a  man  took  pity  on 
them  ..." 

"Man,  woman  or  child  ...  I  should  have  no  mercy 
in  such  a  case." 

"Have  you  power  then  over  people's  lives?" 

"I  should  act  with  others  who  have  power.  We  should 
be  agreed." 

"Nevertheless,"  said  Max,  "it  is  considered  a  noble 
action  to  help  a  prisoner  to  escape." 

His  grandfather  fell  upon  him,  reminding  him  that  the 
prisoners  in  question  belonged  to  the  accursed  and  de- 
generate race  that  in  its  envy  had  planned  the  destruction 
of  Germany  and  that  anyone  who  helped  them  out  of 
captivity  did  so  at  his  peril  and  had  no  patriotism. 
By  the  time  the  meal  was  over  and  I  could  get  back  to 
my  room  I  felt  more  creepy-crawly  than  I  had  ever  ex- 
pected to  feel  and  while  I  waited  for  Wilkins  I  imagined 
myself  led  out  in  front  of  a  firing  squad  while  my 
father-in-law  looked  grimly  on. 

"They're  all  in  a  hurly-burly  about  the  escaped 
prisoners  downstairs,"  said  Wilkins  directly  she  came  in. 
"The  search  parties  have  been  out  all  the  afternoon,  but 
they've  not  tried  the  caves  because  they're  the  wrong  side 
of  Reichenstadt.  I  can't  see  as  our  two  men  have  a 
dog's  chance."  , 

"I'm  going  to  give  them  one,"  I  said. 


THE  DEVIL'S  CRADLE  271 

Wilkins  wanted  to  know  how,  and  when  I  told  her  she 
said  it  could  not  be  done  and  that  at  any  rate  I  was  not 
to  do  it;  but  that  a  more  obstinate  child  than  me,  beg- 
ging my  pardon,  she  had  never  known  and  that  whether 
she  was  wanted  or  not  she  was  coming  with  me.  I  said 
that  nothing  would  induce  me  to  take  her  with  me  and 
that  she  really  must  remember  that  I  was  not  a  child 
now  whatever  I  had  been  when  she  first  made  my 
acquaintance  many  years  ago. 

"I've  a  will  of  my  own,  too,  m'm,"  she  replied,  "as 
you'll  find.  Where  you  go  to-night  I  go,  too.  I  promised 
your  father  I'd  keep  an  eye  on  you  ..." 

"But  it's  dangerous,  Wilkins." 

"Yes,  m'm.    So  I  should  think." 

"If  we  were  caught  we  should  be  put  against  a  wall 
and  shot." 

"I  shouldn't  be  surprised." 

That  was  all  I  could  get  Wilkins  to  say.  She  did  not 
approve  of  what  I  wanted  to  do,  but  if  I  did  it  she  was 
coming  with  me.  I  believe  her  strong  sense  of  pro- 
priety acted  as  a  motive  as  well  as  her  regard  and 
affection  for  me.  She  could  not  let  me  run  about  the 
country  at  night  by  myself  even  if  she  risked  her  life 
by  coming  with  me.  Perhaps  neither  of  us  believed  in 
the  risk  as  we  should  have  done  a  little  later  after  the 
execution  of  Edith  Cavell.  At  any  rate  we  did  not 
dwell  on  it,  but  made  our  preparations  carefully;  and 
one  of  them  was  to  entice  Fritz  into  my  room  soon  after 
the  household  was  in  bed  and  leave  him  there  happy 
for  the  night  amongst  my  sofa  cushions.  There  was  no 
other  dog  in  the  house  and  the  one  in  the  stables  knew 
me  well  and  did  not  bark  when  I  went  near.  We  were 


272  THE  DEVIL'S  CRADLE 

both  loaded  when  we  stole  out  of  the  house  for  we 
took  the  men  clothes  as  well  as  food.  I  took  them  two 
of  the  civilian  suits  Wolfram  had  worn  on  our  wedding 
journey.  Does  this  seem  wrong  to  you  and  heartless? 
If  so  I  have  not  made  you  see  what  I  saw  as  I  unpacked 
the  clothes ;  the  faces  of  the  two  English  boys  for  whom 
I  carried  them:  their  hunted  terror-stricken  eyes  and 
their  rags.  I  had  no  doubts  and  no  compunctions.  If 
Wolfram  had  been  alive  and  at  the  front  I  would  have 
done  the  same. 

Wilkins  had  foraged  in  Mamsell's  larder  of  which  she 
knew  the  ins  and  outs  and  had  brought  back  a  basket 
of  food,  chosen  judiciously,  she  assured  me,  so  as  not 
to  be  greatly  missed.  I  filled  a  flask  with  brandy  sacred 
to  the  Graf  when  he  had  the  little  troubles  that  come 
upon  people  after  they  have  over-eaten  themselves  once 
too  often;  and,  feeling  quite  unrepentant,  we  stole 
mousey  quiet  out  of  a  side  door  used  by  the  servants 
and  close  to  the  stables  where  I  kept  my  car.  I  knew 
it  was  ready  because  I  had  told  the  old  man  who 
cleaned  it  for  me  that  I  should  use  it  that  morning  and 
then  after  all  had  decided  to  walk  to  the  caves  through 
the  forest.  I  hoped  no  one  would  hear  us  start,  but  we 
had  to  risk  that  and  once  away  I  thought  I  could  invent 
a  rigmarole  about  wanting  a  spin  by  moonlight.  For  it 
was  bright  moonlight  and  when  we  got  into  the  main 
road  I  looked  up  at  Hohenroda  and  saw  it  like  a  castle 
in  a  fairy  tale,  all  its  turrets  and  windows  in  blue  light, 
the  forest  closing  round  it  on  three  sides  and  in  front 
the  precipitous  rock  on  which  the  gardens  had  been 
made  with  difficulty  and  that  dropped  sheer  beyond  them 
to  the  road. 


THE  DEVIL'S  CRADLE  273 

"I'll  go  ahead,  m'm,"  said  Wilkins  when  we  got  to  the 
cave,  "and  as  I  go  I'll  call  out.  They  may  have  un- 
dressed." 

I  didn't  feel  much  like  laughing,  but  Wilkins  made  me 
laugh  because  she  went  forward  in  a  most  cautious  way, 
throwing  her  light  to  either  side  of  her  and  at  intervals 
saying  in  her  genteel  voice :  "Are  you  there  ?"  or  "Where 
are  you?"  or  only  "How  very  dark  and  cold  it  is,  m'm. 
Take  care  of  that  stone.  I  nearly  tripped  over  it";  for 
I  had  followed  her.  She  spoke  very  clearly  and  with 
her  voice  raised  as  you  do  when  you  speak  to  give  warn- 
ing, and  when  we  had  got  a  long  way  in,  she  suddenly 
turned  to  me  and  said: 

"The  very  idea  of  your  wanting  to  come  by  yourself. 
Most  improper  it  would  have  been,  I'm  sure." 

At  the  same  moment  two  figures  stirred  quite  close 
to  us  and  we  found  ourselves  almost  touching  the  men 
we  sought.  They  were  heavy  with  sleep  and  in  their 
sleep  they  were  afraid.  Afraid  of  blows  and  kicks, 
putting  up  their  arms  to  guard  their  heads.  You  could 
see  what  treatment  they  expected,  these  two  decent 
Englishmen,  and  when  you  have  seen  you  can't  forget. 
At  least  Wilkins  and  I  can't.  We  shall  never  be  able 
to  talk  of  "our  German  friends"  because  we  should  begin 
to  think  of  the  prisoners  in  the  streets  of  Reichenstadt 
and  those  two  battered  bullied  wretches  in  the  cave  that 
night;  and  the  words  would  stick  in  our  throats. 

We  fed  them  again  and  then  we  told  them  to  be  quick 
and  change  into  the  clothes  we  had  brought  while  we 
waited  for  them  in  the  car.  I  took  them  to  within 
twenty  miles  of  the  frontier  and  told  them  the  little  I 
knew  about  the  river  there  and  their  chances  of  getting 


274  THE  DEVIL'S  CRADLE 

across.  They  said  they  were  strong  swimmers,  but  I 
described  an  inn  just  outside  a  little  town  and  an  old 
boat  I  had  once  seen  lying  on  the  shore  there  and  wanted 
to  use.  Wolfram  had  said  it  was  probably  out  of  repair 
and  I  had  not  insisted;  so  I  could  not  say  whether  it 
was  water-tight  or  even  whether  there  were  oars  near  it. 
Whether  they  rowed  or  swam  across  they  would  probably 
be  seen  and  shot  at  from  the  bridge.  I  knew  I  was  only 
giving  them  a  dog's  chance. 


LI 


THE  glory  of  the  moonlight  had  gone  from  Hohen- 
roda  when  we  went  back  and  as  I  took  the  car 
beneath  the  ancient  gateway  the  old  castle  faced 
me,  gray  and  threatening  but  still  asleep.  Not  a  dog 
barked,  not  a  voice  called  to  us  as  we  crept  upstairs  in 
that  chill  early  dawn  and  when  we  reached  my  rooms 
we  found  Fritz  still  amongst  my  cushions  and  a  rosy 
light  just  beginning  to  glow  in  the  eastern  sky.  Wilkins 
made  a  cup  of  tea  and  then  we  both  went  to  bed,  know- 
ing that  we  had  committed  a  capital  crime  and  that  we 
should  be  lucky  if  we  escaped  detection.  The  night  be- 
fore, in  the  exaltation  of  our  spirits  the  risk  to  ourselves 
had  not  weighed  a  straw.  We  were  sustained  by  the 
flood  of  pity  and  righteous  wrath  the  sufferings  of  our 
countrymen  had  unlocked  in  us.  But  now  that  we  had 
done  the  deed  its  heinousness  weighed  on  us  like  lead 
so  that  we  both  dreamed  when  we  slept  and  cried  out 
in  our  dreams.  I  waked  myself  calling  to  Wolfram  for 


THE  DEVIL'S  CRADLE  275 

help  and  found  Wilkins  up  and  dressed  beside  my  bed. 
She  looked  drawn  and  white  and  had  black  rims  under 
her  eyes. 

"I'd  give  something  to  be  in  the  Seven  Sisters'  Road 
this  morning,"  she  said.  "I  dreamed  I  was  there  in  my 
brother's  front  shop  and  some  of  those  Germans  came 
goose-stepping  along  the  way  you  see  them  and  then  I 
woke  ..." 

"We  are  both  new  to  crime,"  I  said,  sitting  up  in  bed 
wide-awake  and  anxious.  "I  keep  going  over  everything 
we  did  and  wondering  whether  we  can  be  found  out. 
I  should  hate  to  be  shot  in  cold  blood." 

"Do  you  think  they  really  would?" 

"Baron  v.  Osthofen  is  having  women  executed  in 
Belgium  for  less  than  this ;  women  and  quite  young  boys 
and  girls.  Mr.  Van  Brunt  told  me  about  him." 

"Have  a  hot  cup  of  tea,  my  lamb,"  says  the  sensible 
Wilkins,  and  brings  me  one;  for  what  was  the  use  of 
dwelling  on  Osthofen  and  his  infamies  since  we  could 
not  stop  them  and  were  in  the  same  degree  guilty  as 
his  victims?  It  would  have  sapped  our  strength  and 
courage  which  we  might  still  want. 

"Anyhow,  we  had  no  choice,"  we  both  agreed.  "We 
would  do  it  again." 

I  decided  as  I  dressed  that  I  would  overhaul  my  car 
before  breakfast  and  make  sure  no  traces  of  our  pas- 
sengers had  been  left  inside;  and  I  found  when  I  went 
to  the  stables  that  the  old  coachman  was  engaged  in 
cleaning  it  and  grumbling  to  himself  because  he  had  to 
do  so  now  that  the  chauffeur  was  at  the  front.  I  made 
some  excuse  about  looking  for  a  little  bag  which  upset 
him  still  further  because  he  had  to  cease  his  work  in 


276  THE  DEVIL'S  CRADLE 

order  to  assure  me  that  he  was  not  a  thief  and  would 
restore  a  little  bag  if  he  found  it;  and  that  he  was  not 
used  to  Herrschaften  who  promenaded  the  countryside 
by  night  when  all  decent  folk  and  especially  young  ladies 
were  in  bed.  He  had  heard  me  start,  he  said,  and  had 
asked  his  wife  if  such  things  were  allowed;  but  he  had 
not  heard  me  come  back.  When  Wolfram  was  alive  this 
old  man  had  been  obsequiously  polite  to  me;  but  lately 
he  had  been  disobliging  and  uncivil.  He  and  his  wife 
were  favorites  with  the  Minks  and  probably  imbibed 
their  ideas  about  the  treatment  of  English  people,  un- 
fortunate enough  to  be  in  Germany.  I  could  not  find 
anything  of  a  suspicious  nature  in  the  car  and  went  back 
to  breakfast  rather  relieved.  I  was  prepared  to  con- 
fess to  a  moonlight  ride  and  did  not  think  that  in  itself 
could  be  used  against  me;  but  I  did  not  mention  it  as 
I  sat  at  table.  I  hardly  spoke  at  all  because  the  Graf 
was  in  his  blackest  mood  and  his  wife  always  took  color 
from  him,  while  Max  drank  his  coffee  in  five  minutes 
and  hurried  off  to  school  with  his  rolls  in  his  hands.  He 
drove  Wilkins  into  Reichenstadt  every  day  where  she 
had  to  present  herself  to  the  police  and  she  came  back 
on  one  of  the  Hohenroda  carts  that  took  two  hours  to 
do  the  trip.  I  always  thought  that  my  father-in-law 
with  his  influence  and  great  name  might  have  arranged 
for  a  weekly  visit  or  even  to  be  guarantee  for  her;  but 
he  had  never  moved  a  finger  to  save  us  this  daily  in- 
dignity: for  the  German  police  make  any  traffic  with 
them  an  offense  and  an  indignity.  They  always  kept 
Wilkins  standing  as  long  as  they  could  and  when  they 
did  attend  to  her  they  were  often  grossly  rude.  How- 
ever, I  believe  she  annoyed  them  by  her  imperturbability 


THE  DEVIL'S  CRADLE  277 

and  the  twinkle  in  her  eye.  One  of  them  made  a  point 
of  saying  "Gott  strafe  England"  to  her  as  a  daily  greet- 
ing and  she  had  not  moved  a  muscle,  she  told  me,  except 
to  recite  the  facts  she  was  there  to  recite  and  answer 
the  questions  she  was  bound  to  answer.  We  had  never 
taken  their  bad  manners  very  seriously  or  expected  to 
be  at  their  mercy  except  in  a  formal  way. 

The  Graf  went  off  to  the  camp  every  morning  after 
breakfast  and  this  morning  he  had  not  gone  long  when 
the  old  butler  appeared  in  the  Grafin's  sitting-room  and 
said  that  Herr  Putzer  was  there  and  desired  to  speak 
to  her  at  once  on  urgent  business.  I  was  with  her  be- 
cause I  was  helping  her  with  her  accounts  of  one  of 
her  charitable  funds  and  though  I  had  no  wish  to  see 
Herr  Putzer  I  did  not  go  away  because  he  was  announced. 
I  was  sitting  at  a  writing-table  in  one  corner  of  the 
room  when  he  came  in  and  perhaps  he  did  not  see  me. 
At  any  rate,  he  looked  straight  past  me,  went  up  to  the 
Grafin  in  a  state  of  indescribable  agitation  and  deposited 
at  her  feet  something  ragged  and  dirty  that  he  carried 
on  a  stick  and  that  I  knew  at  once  to  be  the  khaki  coat 
of  one  of  my  run-away  Tommies. 

"I  thought  to  be  in  time  to  see  the  Herr  Graf,"  he 
panted.  "I  will,  however,  'phone  him  ..." 

The  Grafm  had  drawn  back  from  the  unsavory  object 
on  the  floor  and  was  looking  at  the  tutor  as  if  she  thought 
he  had  taken  leave  of  his  senses. 

"Good-day,  Herr  Putzer,"  she  said  formally.  "You 
have  perhaps  walked  too  far  in  the  sun  and  over-heated 
yourself." 

His  appearance  bore  out  her  suggestion,  for  he  looked 
ashen  with  excitement  and  fatigue  while  his  clammy  hair 


278  THE  DEVIL'S  CRADLE 

seemed  to  be  pasted  in  thin  strands  on  his  head  and 
temple  and  beads  of  perspiration  rolled  down  his  cheeks 
like  tears, 

"You  do  not  understand,"  he  screamed,  shaking  a  de- 
nunciatory stick  at  the  khaki  rags.  "They  have  been 
helped.  Someone  has  given  them  clothes  into  which  they 
have  changed,  and  food  and  wine.  Whoever  has  done 
this  thing  ..." 

He  wheeled  round  and  took  a  step  towards  me. 

"Whoever  it  is!"  he  screamed  in  a  still  higher  voice 
and  shook  his  clenched  fist  so  near  my  face  that  I  had 
to  push  back  my  chair  to  avoid  it. 

"Herr  Putzer,  I  must  ask  you  to  control  yourself," 
said  the  Grafin  indignantly.  "I  still  do  not  understand 
of  what  you  are  talking." 

"I  am  talking  of  the  English  swine  who  have  deserted 
from  the  camp.  I  am  talking  of  the  cave  in  which  they 
hid  themselves,  of  the  clothes  they  left  there,  of  the  food 
and  wine  with  which  they  were  strengthened  and  re- 
freshed." 

"The  caves!"  echoed  the  Grafin.  "But  the  caves  are 
not  between  us  and  the  frontier.  They  are  in  the  other 
direction." 

"The  swine  hid  there." 

"How  do  you  know?" 

Herr  Putzer  made  a  gesture  of  despair  at  the  Grafin's 
stupidity. 

"Have  I  not  told  you  ?  Have  I  not  shown  you  ?  They 
changed  their  clothes  there  and  left  those  behind." 

He  pointed  again  to  the  little  heap  between  them  and 
the  Grafin  looked  at  it  again,  her  ponderous  mind  re- 
fusing to  move  as  quickly  as  he  wished. 


THE  DEVIL'S  CRADLE  279 

"But  how  should  they  come  by  clothes  in  a  cave?" 
she  said,  and  he  shrugged  his  shoulders  and  lifted  his 
eyes  to  heaven. 

"Some  traitor  assisted  them,"  he  said.  "The  punish- 
ment as  you  know  is  death." 

I  had  not  spoken  yet  and  I  did  not  speak  now.  A 
silence  followed  that  was  terrifying  because  while  it 
lasted  I  seemed  to  see  the  mists  clear  from  my  mother- 
in-law's  brain  and  the  truth  reach  her  understanding  sud- 
denly and  with  horror. 

"What  were  you  doing  in  the  cave?"  she  said  severely 
to  Herr  Putzer  when  she  found  her  tongue.  "How  came 
you  to  think  of  going  there?" 

I  had  risen  to  my  feet  now  and  I  stood  beside  the 
Grafin  when  Herr  Putzer  pointed  at  me. 

"She  threw  me  down,"  he  croaked.  "She  offended  my 
dignity.  Now  she  shall  pay  .  .  .  she  shall  pay  .  .  . 
to  the  uttermost.  She  was  outside  the  caves  yesterday 
with  her  lover  ..." 

I  took  a  step  towards  him  and  he  started  back,  but  as 
he  did  so  he  plucked  some  small  object  from  his  coat 
and  shook  it  triumphantly  in  our  faces ;  and  my  mother- 
in-law  and  I  both  recognized  it  for  a  letter-case  that 
Wolfram  had  used  and  that  had  his  monogram  and 
coronet  outside.  One  of  those  silly  Tommies  must  have 
found  it  in  a  pocket  and  thrown  it  away,  thinking  per- 
haps that  it  might  convict  him.  It  was  certainly  suffi- 
ciently to  convict  me. 


280  THE  DEVIL'S  CRADLE 


LII 


YOU  know  how  spontaneously  your  body  will  act  in 
the  moment  of  danger  and  how  it  saves  itself 
without  any  conscious  direction  on  your  part. 
I  suppose  there  must  be  some  parallel  operation  of  the 
mind,  for  as  Herr  Putzer's  voice  rose  to  a  scream  of 
insult  and  denunciation  I  remembered  that  the  electric 
bell  was  out  of  order  and  that  this  little  circumstance  in 
my  favor  might  give  me  time.  In  a  moment  I  had 
whisked  out  of  the  room,  locked  the  door  and  with  the 
key  in  my  pocket  rushed  to  the  Graf's  office  and  asked 
for  Mr.  Van  Brunt's  hotel  on  the  telephone.  The  longest 
moments  of  my  life  were  those  during  which  the  hotel 
porter  sent  for  Mr.  Van  Brunt  and  it  was  just  all  I  could 
do  to  sit  there  with  my  hands  folded,  waiting  for  the 
call.  But  I  forced  myself  to  stand  the  strain  because 
I  knew  that  Wilkins  and  I  were  rats  in  a  trap  and  that 
we  had  not  a  chance  of  getting  across  the  frontier  by 
ourselves.  I  had  no  passports,  for  I  had  not  been  out 
of  Germany  since  my  marriage  and  we  could  not  expect 
to  pass  any  one  of  the  guarded  bridges  without  them. 
There  would  be  a  hue  and  cry  after  us  in  a  short  time 
and  we  should  have  to  hide  by  day  and  travel  by  night 
until  we  got  to  some  part  of  the  country  where  we 
were  not  proscribed.  But  what  should  we  look  like  after 
a  day  or  two  of  such  life  and  what  should  we  live  on  by 
the  way;  and  how  should  we  open  our  mouths  without 
betrayal  and  how  should  we  find  our  way?  Sitting  there 
in  the  Graf's  office  at  Hohenroda,  I  stared  at  a  large 


THE  DEVIL'S  CRADLE  281 

map  of  the  German  Empire  and  saw  that  I  was  a  mighty- 
long  way  from  the  Dutch  frontier  and  close  to  Switzer- 
land. I  had  known  that  before,  but  not  as  I  knew  it 
now  with  those  hundreds  of  miles  between  me  and  safety 
on  the  one  side  and  the  rapids  of  the  Rhine  on  the 
other.  I  determined  that  if  Mr.  Van  Brunt  told  me  to 
stay  where  I  was  and  trust  to  luck  I  would  do  it.  I 
almost  hoped  he  would.  Escape  seemed  impossible  and 
I  thought  of  my  poor  Tommies  and  wondered  what  had 
happened  to  them.  Then  the  bell  rang  and  I  heard  Mr. 
Van  Brunt's  voice  at  the  other  end  of  the  receiver.  He 
listened  to  what  I  had  to  say  and  then  he  told  me  what 
I  had  feared  to  hear.  The  two  Englishmen  had  been 
caught  about  two  miles  further  on  than  I  had  taken 
them  and  one  had  been  shot,  but  the  other  had  been 
brought  back  alive  to  the  camp  and  was  to  be  tried  by 
court  martial.  Then  he  said  : 

"At  Tiefenstein  in  half  an  hour." 

"I  am  to  be  there?" 

"Without  fail ;  and  bring  your  papers  with  you." 

"I  have  no  papers." 

"Yes,  you  have.  A  marriage-certificate  .  .  .  any- 
thing. Anyhow,  be  there  and  hurry  up." 

I  knew  he  could  not  say  much  in  case  he  was  over- 
heard in  the  hotel,  but  I  felt  sure  that  somehow  or  other 
he  was  going  to  help  me.  I  supposed  I  was  asking  a 
great  deal  of  him,  but  he  had  not  hesitated  a  moment. 
I  had  not  expected  him  to.  You  would  as  soon  expect 
the  stars  to  fall  from  the  sky  as  Cornelius  Van  Brunt 
to  desert  a  friend  in  a  difficulty,  and  as  for  saying  that 
I  ought  to  have  thought  of  his  official  career  I  call  that 


282  THE  DEVIL'S  CRADLE 

far  fetched.  My  life  was  threatened  and  life  is  sweet. 
Besides,  there  was  Wilkins  to  consider  as  well. 

"I  shall  have  Wilkins  with  me,"  I  said. 

"Of  course.    Hurry  up.    Good-bye,"  said  he. 

That  was  just  like  Mr.  Van  Brunt,  too.  Wilkins  made 
things  more  difficult;  but  it  never  even  entered  his  head 
that  she  could  be  left  behind.  She  was  a  plain  elderly 
woman  of  the  working  class,  and  the  American  was,  I 
believe,  as  ready  to  save  her  as  he  was  to  save  me; 
while  with  the  Germans  her  age  and  her  withered  looks 
made  her  an  object  of  contempt  and  they  would  have 
shot  her  without  mercy  as  they  did  many  an  old  ugly 
Belgian  woman  who  had  done  less  to  offend  them  than 
she. 

>  It  took  me  about  ten  minutes  to  run  to  my  own  room, 
put  on  a  hat  and  coat,  gather  together  a  little  jewelry, 
the  money  I  had  by  me,  my  marriage-certificate  and 
another  document,  both  of  which  I  found  in  Wolfram's 
writing-table.  I  had  no  time  to  think ;  no  time  for  tears 
or  memories.  The  one  clear  driving  idea  in  my  mind 
was  that  I  must  be  at  Tiefenstein  in  half  an  hour  and 
that  I  must  scurry  like  the  wind  to  do  it.  I  could  not 
take  things  for  Wilkins  because  I  did  not  know  what  she 
most  valued  and  I  thought  that  I  could  buy  her  all  she 
needed  if  we  came  safely  through.  I  left  a  word  for 
Max  on  Wolfram's  writing-table  and  the  sight  of  a 
strong  pair  of  nippers  there  put  an  idea  into  my  head 
that  might  have  come  there  before  if  my  head  had  been 
as  calm  and  level  as  I  could  have  wished.  I  had  to 
pass  the  Graf's  office  on  my  way  out  so  I  went  in  again 
and  snipped  the  telephone  wire.  Then  I  hurried  on  to 
the  stables  and  got  into  my  car.  The  old  coachman  was 


THE  DEVIL'S  CRADLE  283 

about,  so  I  called  him  to  me,  gave  him  the  key  of  the 
Grafin's  room  and  instructed  him  to  carry  it  to  the  butler 
at  once.  He  stared  at  it  unwillingly  and  asked  what  key 
it  was. 

"Never  mind  what  key  it  is,"  I  said.  "Give  it  to 
Reuter  and  tell  him  to  take  it  to  the  Frau  Grafin's  room." 

Then  I  started,  not  a  moment  too  soon,  for  as  the 
car  began  to  move  Rosa,  the  girl  who  had  spat  into  my 
soup,  came  tearing  across  the  stable  yard,  screaming, 
"Halt  1  Halt !"  and  the  old  coachman  took  up  the  cry  and 
screamed  "Haiti  Haiti"  too.  But  as  you  may  imagine 
I  didn't  halt  and  when  I  think  of  the  speed  at  which  I 
took  that  car  down  the  steep  Hohenroda  hill  to  the 
main  road  I  know  how  frightened  I  must  have  been,  and 
I  remember  how  my  heart  beat.  I  guessed  that  Herr 
Putzer  must  have  raised  such  a  clamor  inside  the  room 
that  some  one  heard  him  and  that  he  had  sent  Rosa 
to  the  stables  to  stop  my  departure  if  she  could.  I  have 
always  believed  that  he  was  the  author  of  a  long  para- 
graph in  the  Relchenst'ddter  Zeitung  which  was  posted 
to  me  anonymously  at  a  later  date.  It  gave  no  names, 
but  everyone  in  the  town  and  the  neighborhood  must 
have  known  for  whom  the  narrative  was  intended.  It 
described  a  virtuous  and  aristocratic  family  who  had 
been  sorely  afflicted  by  the  marriage  of  the  son  and  heir 
with  an  English  adventuress  who  united  in  her  person 
all  the  most  shameless  characteristics  of  her  degraded 
race.  It  became  lachrymose  over  the  son's  early  death 
in  a  duel,  which  the  behavior  of  his  wife  forced  upon 
him,  and  it  marveled  at  the  Christian  magnanimity  of  the 
son's  parents  who  in  spite  of  the  misery  she  had  brought 
upon  their  noble  house  gave  her  shelter  and  protection. 


284  THE  DEVIL'S  CRADLE 

But  how  did  this  debased  woman  reward  her  bene- 
factors? Need  it  be  said?  With  ingratitude  and 
treachery.  Perfidious  daughter  of  Albion!  The  curses 
of  every  honest  German  were  to  be  forever  on  her  head ! 
Instead  of  humbly  trying  to  expiate  the  sins  of  her  mar- 
ried life  and  in  sackcloth  and  ashes  working  for'herldead 
husband's  country,  she  actually  assisted  the  escape  of 
two  English  soldiers  who  had  run  away  from  the  comfort 
of  a  German  camp,  in  revolt  no  doubt  against  its  decent 
order  and  discipline,  thereby  rendering  herself  liable  to 
the  death-penalty.  The  paragraph  went  on  to  describe 
the  discovery  made  in  the  cave  by  a  learned  townsman 
who  preferred  to  be  unnamed  and  my  violent  behavior 
when  confronted  with  him.  It  could  not  make  up  its 
mind  whether  my  conduct  proved  that  I  had  criminal 
antecedents  or  only  that  criminal  impulses  are  natural 
to  everyone  born  of  the  decadent  robber  nation;  and  it 
became  so  dull  and  ponderous  as  it  argued  this  out  that 
I  ceased  to  be  amused  and  never  read  to  the  end.  But 
did  it  represent  Herr  Putzer's  genuine  point  of  view? 
Or  did  he  know  deep  down  that  every  sentiment  was 
false  and  every  fact  twisted  to  his  purpose?  I  cannot 
decide. 


THE  DEVIL'S  CRADLE  285 


LIII 

1KNEW  that  I  must  meet  Wilkins  if  she  had  left 
Reichenstadt  at  the  usual  time,  but  when  I  got  to 
the  road  branching  off  to  Tiefenstein  she  had  not 
appeared  and  I  was  obliged  to  wait  for  her.  Every 
moment  seemed  like  an  hour,  and  I  sat  there  in  the  blaz- 
ing sunshine,  my  mind  furiously  at  work  imagining 
disaster.  I  felt  naked  to  mine  enemies,  perched  there  in 
view  of  anyone  and  everyone  who  passed  and  stared  at 
me.  There  was  traffic  on  the  main  road  at  this  hour, 
traffic  chiefly  of  peasants  returning  from  market,  some 
on  foot;  some  in  carts  drawn  by  oxen  and  some  few  on 
bicycles.  There  was  townspeople,  too,  and  they  knew 
me  by  sight  and  looked  at  me  with  no  friendly  eye.  The 
man  who  came  to  Hohenroda  every  week  to  wind  up 
the  clocks  and  see  that  they  were  in  order  scowled  at 
me  as  he  whizzed  by  and  a  shoemaker  none  of  us  em- 
ployed because  he  made  bad  shoes  called  out,  "Gott  strafe 
England,"  and  spat  at  my  car.  I  hope  he  relieved  his 
feelings.  I  am  sure  he  did  not  guess  how  I  was  quaking, 
and  probably  cursed  me  for  one  of  the  idle  rich  as  well 
as  for  an  alien  enemy.  The  heat  was  intense,  the  sky 
a  hard  cloudless  blue,  and  the  road  inches  deep  in  a  fine 
white  dust  that  everything  moving  along  it  blew  up  in 
a  gritty  trail,  choking  the  air.  All  around  me  the  sun 
shone  in  glory  on  the  depths  and  coolness  of  the  forest, 
but  where  I  waited  there  was  not  the  shade  of  a  hedge 
or  of  a  single  tree.  I  could  not  go  on  because  two 
roads  from  Reichenstadt  converged  here  and  Wilkins 


286  THE  DEVIL'S  CRADLE 

might  come  by  either.  I  could  only  wait  and  watch 
and  upbraid  myself  for  minding  an  overdose  of  sun  and 
a  little  anxiety  and  suspense  in  a  world  loaded  to  break- 
ing point  with  pain  and  misery.  Unfortunately,  the  most 
moral  reflections  and  commendable  sentiments  will  not 
save  you  from  sunstroke  and  I  was  beginning  to  feel 
quite  sick  and  ill  when  my  attention  was  diverted  by 
the  arrival  of  Eugene  von  Gosen  and  her  sister  Emma  in 
an  open  carriage  with  their  husbands  who  were  pre- 
sumably home  on  leave.  To  my  surprise  they  stopped 
to  speak  to  me.  The  last  time  I  had  seen  Eugenie  was 
when  the  English  prisoners  were  being  pursued  and  at- 
tacked by  the  mob:  and  she  had  fled  for  safety  inside  a 
shop.  She  did  not  refer  to  this  occasion,  but  explained 
that  they  were  out  for  a  day's  expedition  and  that  they 
were  going  to  Tiefenstein.  I  was  sorry  to  hear  it,  but 
could  not  say  so.  If  Only  Wilkins  would  come  we  might 
easily  pass  them  by. 

"Who  are  you  waiting  for  and  why  have  you  chosen 
the  hottest  part  of  the  road?"  she  asked. 

I  said  I  was  waiting  for  Wilkins. 

"We  passed  her  a  little  way  back,"  piped  Emma.  "She 
will  be  here  before  long;  but  she  also  looked  as  if  the 
sun  was  too  much  for  her." 

"I  think  I'll  go  and  meet  her,"  I  said,  and  jumped 
down  to  start  my  engine ;  but,  as  I  did  so,  I  turned  dizzy 
for  a  moment  and  had  to  steady  myself  by  holding  on 
to  the  car.  It  was  nothing,  but  Eugenie  noticed  it. 

"You  are  overcome  by  the  heat,"  she  said.  "You  are 
not  fit  to  drive  a  car.  Where  are  you  going?" 

"I  am  quite  well,"  I  said,  as  soon  as  I  could  speak.  "I 
am  going  to  meet  Wilkins."  x  x 


THE  DEVIL'S  CRADLE  287 

"But  that  is  unnecessary  since  she  is  already  on  a 
cart.  I  implore  you  to  go  straight  home,  Karen,  and 
lie  down  in  a  dark  room.  You  are  as  white  as  a  sheet 
and  look  as  if  the  sun  had  touched  you.  Why  should  you 
kill  yourself  in  order  to  meet  Wilkins?  Where  are  you 
going  with  her?" 

I  did  feel  dazed  by  that  time  and  unable  to  look  far 
ahead  or  think  very  clearly;  and  I  knew  we  should  have 
to  pass  them,  so  I  just  told  the  truth  and  said  we  were 
going  to  Tiefenstein.  It  was  a  mistake  because  it  was 
an  unlikely  thing  for  us  to  do  and  roused  their  suspi- 
cion and  curiosity. 

"But  why  should  you  and  Wilkins  be  going  to  Tiefen- 
stein?" said  Eugenie  in  her  most  inquisitorial  tone. 

"Why  not?" 

"One  does  not  as  a  rule  go  on  expeditions  with  one's 
servant." 

I  might  have  told  some  silly  lie  and  said  it  was 
Wilkins'  birthday  or  any  other  anniversary,  but  it  did 
not  occur  to  me. 

"We  shall  probably  pass  you,"  I  said,  getting  into  my 
seat.  "Good-bye,  Eugenie." 

"Auf  Wiedersehen,"  said  she  in  an  admonitory  way. 
"But  how  tiresome  of  you  to  take  Wilkins.  Wait,  Karen ! 
I  have  an  idea.  We  will  send  Wilkins  back  in  this 
carriage  .  .  .  the  horse  is  very  old  and  slow  .  .  . 
and  you  shall  take  us  to  Tiefenstein  in  your  car  .  .  . 
and  we  will  have  lunch  there  together.  With  our  two 
field  grays  you  will  be  quite  safe  although  you  look  so 
English  and  speak  German  with  such  a  shocking  bad 
accent.  Get  out,  Emma  .  .  .  the  carriage  can  go  back 
and  explain  to  Wilkins." 


288  THE  DEVIL'S  CRADLE 

I  could  not  stop  to  argue  or  be  polite.  I  could  not 
stop  at  all.  I  knew  Eugenie  and  her  persistence  and  the 
"enormous  tact"  with  which  she  would  thrust  a  plan  of 
her  own  on  its  victims.  Emma  had  opened  the  door  and 
had  her  foot  on  the  step  of  the  carriage  and  remained 
staring  open-mouthed  after  me  as  I  slid  past,  calling  out 
that  I  could  not  disappoint  Wilkins.  I  was  glad  I  had 
met  them  because  I  knew  by  which  road  they  had  come 
and,  sure  enough,  half  a  mile  on  I  saw  Wilkins  sitting 
forlorn  and  dusty  on  the  Hohenroda  cart  while  the  man 
in  charge  of  it  trudged  along  by  its  side.  I  drew  up  and 
stopped  them. 

"Get  into  the  car,  Wilkins,"  I  said.    "Be  quick !" 

She  looked  at  me  doubtfully. 

"I've  got  a  headache,"  she  complained.  "If  you  don't 
want  me,  m'm,  I'd  just  as  well  go  home  and  lie  down." 

"Get  in,"  I  said,  and  I  suppose  my  voice  or  my  manner 
alarmed  her.  She  bundled  out  of  that  cart  and  into  the 
car  as  quickly  as  I  could  wish  and  I  turned  round  and 
went  ahead  again.  Wilkins  was  sitting  beside  me  and 
I  told  her  what  had  happened  since  the  morning.  What 
with  her  sleepless  night,  her  journey  to  and  fro  in  the 
blazing  sun  and  her  bad  headache  she  was  in  a  de- 
pressed mood  and  inclined  to  find  fault. 

"Did  you  say  you'd  brought  none  of  my  things  with 
you,  m'm?" 

"I  didn't,  Wilkins.  I'm  very  sorry,  but  I  thought  it 
was  more  sensible  to  bring  jewelry  in  case  we  are  held 
up  in  Switzerland." 

"If  we  ever  get  there.  I  don't  hold  with  carrying 
jewelry  about.  You  remember  that  poor  lady  they  en- 


THE  DEVIL'S  CRADLE  289 

ticed  to  a  villa  and  robbed  and  murdered  and  put  the 
corpse  in  a  trunk  and  a  railway  porter  noticed  it  .  .  ." 

"Oh,  don't,  Wilkins,"  I  said,  for  I  was  off  color  my- 
self. However,  my  thoughts  were  that  very  moment 
snatched  from  tragedy  to  comedy  because  we  whizzed 
past  the  carriage  in  which  Eugenie  sat  with  her  sister 
and  their  field  grays  and  I  saw  by  their  faces  and  their 
frosty  want  of  recognition  that  they  were  mortally  of- 
fended. I  was  sorry  to  have  hurt  their  feelings,  but  I 
knew  that  before  the  day  was  out  they  would  be  glad 
not  to  have  spent  it  in  my  company  and  would  forgive 
me  for  having  fled  from  them. 

"Not  even  my  night  things  and  my  hair-brushes/' 
grumbled  Wilkins. 

"I'll  buy  you  new." 

"Thank  you,  m'm,  but  I'm  attached  to  my  possessions. 
Mrs.  Gilfoy  gave  me  my  hair-brushes  one  Christmas 
and  the  Duchess  gave  me  my  photographic  album  that 
has  portraits  of  all  my  family  in  it.  The  album  belonged 
to  her  Grace's  mother  and  has  her  ladyship's  signature 
inside  which  I  may  have  shown  you  ..." 

"Do  you  understand  that  we  are  running  for  our  lives, 
Wilkins?" 

"I  understood  it  in  the  night  when  I  had  that  bad 
dream.  In  the  day-time  I  can  hardly  believe  it.  What 
good  would  our  lives  be  to  anyone  ?" 

This  was  such  an  eminently  Wilkinsish  way  of  look- 
ing at  the  situation  that  it  seemed  useless  to  reply  and 
I  paid  the  whole  of  my  attention  to  getting  the  top 
speed  out  of  the  car  on  a  long  level  bit  of  road.  Then 
we  came  to  a  zig-zag,  steeply  uphill  with  dangerous 
corners,  and  for  some  time  I  did  not  speak.  Wilkins 


290  THE  DEVIL'S  CRADLE 

broke  the  silence  first  and  I  knew  by  her  voice  that  her 
mood  had  changed. 

"Did  you  wait  long  for  me  at  that  corner,  m'm?"  she 
said. 

"About  twenty  minutes." 

"Enough  to  give  anyone  sunstrike  and  all  through  that 
Herr  Putzer  not  minding  his  own  business.  What  will 
we  do  if  Mr.  Van  Brunt  isn't  here?  Go  on  by  our- 
selves ?" 

"I  don't  know  what  we  should  do.  Don't  let  us  think 
of  it." 

"He'll  be  there,"  said  Wilkins. 


LIV 


HE  was  there.  We  came  upon  him  suddenly  at 
a  bend  in  the  road  about  a  mile  from  Tiefen- 
stein  and  to-day  his  chauffeur  was  driving  the 
car.  He  has  told  me  since  that  he  got  a  considerable 
shock  when  he  saw  me  and  wondered  whether  I  should 
hold  out.  However,  he  did  not  waste  words,  but  listened 
to  what  I  said  about  Eugenie  and  her  party  coming  on 
behind  us. 

"If  I  leave  my  empty  car  here,"  I  pointed  out,  "they 
will  be  so  inquisitive  about  it." 

He  hardly  let  me  finish.  I  never  saw  a  man  less 
flurried,  but  he  acted  mighty  quick  and  I  thought  he 
looked  concerned.  I  thought  so,  but  I  could  not  be  sure. 
He  went  up  to  his  chauffeur  and  gave  an  order  and 
then  he  took  my  seat  and  began  to  drive  my  car.  We 


THE  DEVIL'S  CRADLE  291 

passed  through  Tiefenstein,  a  tiny  picturesque  village, 
with  a  ruined  castle  on  a  height,  and  an  inn  in  the  valley 
where  you  could  get  a  good  dinner,  and  followed  by 
his  car,  we  went  on  for  another  two  miles. 

"This  will  do,"  he  said,  and  stopped  and  helped  me 
down.  By  this  time  I  was  so  dazed  and  dizzy  that  I 
could  not  have  driven  much  further.  We  all  three  got 
into  his  car  and  he  told  his  chauffeur  to  drive  as  quickly 
as  possible.  We  were  still  twenty  miles  from  the  nearest 
bridge  over  the  Rhine  and  though  I  felt  ill  and  dazed 
my  mind  worked  clearly  enough  to  know  that  there  was 
no  time  to  lose.  We  might  be  pursued  or  we  might 
be  prevented  from  escape.  Quite  easily  prevented.  A 
message  to  the  bridges  or  the  railway  stations  would  do 
it  and  there  are  many  ways  of  sending  messages  riow- 
a-days.  How  had  they  found  my  two  runaways  for 
whose  sake  I  was  in  my  present  quandary? 

"If  they  opened  their  mouths  they  would  betray  them- 
selves," said  Mr.  Van  Brunt. 

The  car  sped  swiftly  and  smoothly  on  through  lovely 
forest  country,  the  sun  baked  the  uttermost  scent  out  of 
the  fir-trees  so  that  the  hot  pure  air  was  heavy  with 
their  fragrance,  the  villages  were  sleepily  alive  and  the 
children  of  Germany  ran  beside  us  in  troops  and  begged 
for  pence  when  we  slowed  down.  I  began  to  get  back 
my  life-long  sense  of  security  and  well-being.  It 
seemed  incredible  that  I,  Karen,  should  be  fleeing  for 
my  life  and  that  the  life  of  my  dear  highly  respectable 
Wilkins  should  be  forfeit,  too;  so  that  if  we  did  not 
escape  we  should  both  be  pushed  into  prisons,  go  through 
some  mockery  of  a  trial,  probably  behind  closed  doors, 
and  finally  be  executed  in  a  prison  yard.  It  seemed  im- 


292  THE  DEVIL'S  CRADLE 

possible  one  moment  and  inevitable  the  next.  I  went 
up  and  down  between  the  extremes  of  terror  and  blank 
unbelief. 

"Do  they  execute  women  ?"  I  said  aloud. 

"They  are  not  going  to  execute  you,"  said  Mr.  Van 
Brunt.  "Have  some  lunch."  He  took  some  packages 
out  of  the  pockets  of  his  car  and  we  all  ate  and  drank 
as  we  went  along.  But  Wilkins  and  I  did  not  eat  much. 
We  both  felt  flat  and  sun-sick  and  up-all-nightish.  I 
should  have  thought  it  was  very  exciting  to  race  to  the 
frontier  for  your  life,  but  the  excitement  was  not  of  a 
kind  we  could  enjoy  or  recall  with  any  pride.  I  won- 
dered how  Mr.  Van  Brunt  proposed  to  get  us  across  the 
bridge,  but  when  I  asked  him  he  put  me  off  and  said  he 
was  trusting  to  the  inspiration  of  the  moment.  He  was 
in  a  silent  mood  himself  and  hardly  spoke  as  we  traversed 
the  last  few  miles.  He  had  asked  me  what  papers  I 
had  brought  and  I  had  given  him  my  marriage-certificate 
and  another  setting  forth  Graf  Wolfram  von  Hohen- 
roda's  appointment  to  be  Rittmeister  in  the  Reichenstadt 
Dragoons.  He  said  I  had  been  very  sensible  to  bring  that 
and  as  it  turned  out  he  was  right. 

But  when  we  reached  the  bridge  we  had  a  sickening 
disappointment.  It  was  closely  guarded  and  the  non- 
commissioned officer  in  command  at  the  moment  said  he 
could  let  Mr.  Van  Brunt  through  because  he  had  his 
passport,  but  he  could  not  do  the  same  for  Wilkins  or 
for  me.  I  think  he  discovered  we  were  English.  Cer- 
tainly he  was  as  truculent  as  he  could  be  and,  I  thought, 
anxious  to  pick  a  quarrel.  But  Mr.  Van  Brunt  managed 
him  very  quietly  and  skillfully.  We  got  away  and  there 
was  nothing  for  it  now  but  to  take  the  car  to  another 


THE  DEVIL'S  CRADLE  293 

bridge  some  way  up  the  river  and  to  hope  for  better 
luck  there. 

I  had  once  been  to  this  other  bridge  with  Wolfram 
and  we  had  approached  in  that  most  lovely  hour  of 
summer  when  "the  moon  is  up  and  yet  it  is  not  night." 
We  had  come  through  the  forest  all  day  and  arrived 
suddenly  beside  the  river  foaming  in  glacier-green  rapids 
over  giant  rocks  and  then  scurrying,  still  in  haste,  to- 
wards the  little  town  that  lies  like  a  sack  in  the  Rhine. 
We  had  crossed  the  bridge  into  Switzerland  because 
there  is  a  good  hotel  on  that  bank  and  not  on  the 
German  side  and  we  had  spent  a  night  there,  returning 
next  day  by  a  different  road. 

It  was  the  hottest  hour  of  the  hottest  day  in  the  year 
when  we  stopped  to  show  the  guard  our  papers  that 
afternoon  and  as  we  waited  in  the  dust  and  the  pitiless 
glare  I  looked  longingly  down  the  darkness  of  that  cov- 
ered bridge  across  the  river  and  at  the  icy  torrent  dash- 
ing underneath  it.  The  anxiety  of  the  moment  was  so 
intense  that  it  was  paralyzing.  I  listened  and  was 
thankful  I  did  not  have  to  speak,  and  I  hoped  that  I 
did  not  show  my  suspense  in  my  manner  or  my  face. 
Wilkins  sat  bolt  upright,  the  image  of  correct  indiffer- 
ence. She  looked  gray  and  ill  to  my  eyes,  but  she  be- 
haved admirably. 

Mr.  Van  Brunt  showed  his  own  passport  which  the 
officer  on  guard  examined  and  returned  to  him.  Then 
he  looked  at  us. 

"And  these  ladies  ?"  he  said  politely. 

"This  lady  is  the  widow  of  Graf  Wolfram  v.  Hohen- 
roda,"  said  Mr.  Van  Brunt ;  "Rittmeister  in  the  Reichen- 
stadt  Dragoons." 


294  THE  DEVIL'S  CRADLE 

He  presented  my  marriage-certificate  an4  the  other 
paper  and  the  young  officer  perused  both  slowly ;  oh !  so 
slowly  that  I  longed  to  shake  him.  But  I  perceived  that 
he  was  impressed.  He  read.  He  re-read.  He  compared. 
He  looked  hard  at  me.  And  the  minutes  dragged. 

"I  once  saw  the  Frau  Grafm  in  Reichenstadt,"  he  said, 
putting  his  heels  together  and  making  me  a  low  bow. 
"I  remember  her  well," 

I  returned  his  bow. 

"You  would  take  coffee  at  the  hotel.  On  this  side 
there  is  nothing." 

"Nothing !"  I  repeated  mechanically. 

"The  other  lady?" 

"My  maid !" 

He  bowed  again. 

"She  also  has  no  passport?" 

"I  have  never  troubled  to  get  them  since  we  did  not 
mean  to  travel.  Last  year  I  came  here  with  my  husband 
and  he  did  not  bring  any  ..." 

I  had  found  my  voice  and  my  composure.  The  man 
who  had  our  lives  in  his  hand  was  a  boy,  not  much 
older  than  Max,  fair-haired,  blue-eyed,  amiable  and 
plainly,  my  admirer. 

"In  war-time  it  is  well  to  travel  with  passports,"  he 
said,  seeming  rather  troubled  and  undecided;  and  then 
suddenly  making  up  his  mind,  he  returned  our  papers 
and  signed  to  the  chauffeur  to  go  on. 

"Are  we  safe  now  ?"  I  said  to  Mr.  Van  Brunt. 

"The  Swiss  must  let  us  through,"  he  reminded  me,  and 
I  held  my  breath  again. 

The  Swiss  were  rather  more  difficult  than  the  Ger- 


THE  DEVIL'S  CRADLE  295 

mans  had  been.  They  argued  and  grumbled  for  a  long 
time,  but  Mr.  Van  Brunt  was  so  good-humored  and  at 
the  same  time  so  determined  to  have  his  way  that  in  the 
end  they  sulkily  consented  to  let  us  pass.  He  had  got 
out  of  the  car  here  to  talk  to  them  and  just  as  they 
concluded  their  discussion  I  noticed  that  he  was  watching 
the  other  end  of  the  bridge.  He  showed  neither  hurry 
nor  concern,  but  I  knew  something  was  happening  there 
and  I  wondered  whether  this  end  of  the  bridge  was  Swiss 
or  German  soil.  I  did  not  turn  round  to  look  because 
I  might  have  been  recognized. 

"Quick!"  he  said  to  me,  when  he  had  wrung  consent 
out  of  the  Swiss  guards,  for  we  were  at  the  very  end 
of  the  bridge  and  it  was  quicker  for  Wilkins  and  me  to 
tumble  out  of  the  car  and  walk  into  Switzerland  than 
to  wait  for  the  chauffeur  to  get  a  move  on.  As  we  stood 
in  a  group  waiting  for  the  car  to  come  up  to  us  we  saw 
that  there  was  a  pother  at  the  other  end  of  the  bridge 
and  men  in  uniform  gesticulating  and  a  man  in  civilian 
clothes  running  excitedly  towards  us.  Mr.  Van  Brunt 
took  out  a  field-glass  and  looked  through  it. 

"Herr  Putzer !"  he  said.    "Just  half  a  minute  too  late !" 


296  THE  DEVIL'S  CRADLE 


LV 


POOR  Herr  Putzer!  He  was  not  a  dignified  object 
as  he  advanced  towards  our  end  of  the  bridge, 
his  face  distorted  by  rage  and  his  clenched  fists 
threatening  us.  He  shouted  things,  too,  unrepeatable, 
insult  and  invective  that  we  heard  as  he  got  near.  Pre- 
sumably the  stolid  Swiss  sentries  heard,  too,  but  though 
they  stared  at  us  they  took  no  notice. 

"Get  in!"  said  Mr.  Van  Brunt,  and  opened  the  door 
of  the  car  for  us,  while  Herr  Putzer  shouted  to  the 
Swiss  that  we  were  criminals  escaping  from  justice  and 
must  be  stopped.  That  was  the  last  I  saw  of  him,  for 
the  car  began  to  move  and  took  us  out  of  hearing  as 
we  settled  ourselves  again. 

"Are  we  safe?"  I  said,  for  I  could  hardly  believe  it. 

"Safe  and  sound,"  said  Mr.  Van  Brunt. 

Wilkins  and  I  were  not  quite  sound  as  it  turned  out, 
but  we  were  extraordinarily  happy  and  light-hearted. 
You  must  have  known  your  life  forfeit  and  had  it  given 
back  to  understand  what  we  felt  like  all  through  that 
afternoon.  The  sun  had  touched  us  both  and  our  heads 
ached  miserably,  but  at  first  that  did  not  seem  to  matter. 
We  were  safe  and  free  and  out  of  Germany.  But  we 
did  not  get  as  far  as  Mr.  Van  Brunt  meant  to  get  that 
night.  He  discovered  before  long  that  he  had  two  suf- 
fering females  on  his  hands  and  without  consulting  us 
he  altered  his  plans,  which  had  been  to  get  on  to  Lucerne. 
We  spent  three  days  at  a  small  hotel  that  took  summer 
guests  and  Wilkins  was  so  ill  most  of  the  time  that  she 


THE  DEVIL'S  CRADLE  297 

had  not  the  strength  to  grumble  at  the  things  I  was 
able  to  borrow  for  her  and  which  were  not  what  she 
had  been  accustomed  to.  On  the  third  day  I  was  well 
enough  to  get  up  and  dress,  and  I  went  down  into  the 
garden  where  I  found  Mr.  Van  Brunt. 

"I've  written  to  your  father,"  he  said,  when  he  had 
walked  to  the  end  of  the  garden  and  found  a  quiet  seat 
in  the  shade.  "I  said  that  you  would  wait  at  Lucerne 
till  he  came." 

"Are  you  going  back?"  I  asked  uneasily. 

"I  have  another  three  days.    Then  I  must." 

"Will  there  be  trouble  because  you  helped  us?  What 
will  happen?" 

He  said  he  did  not  think  much  would  happen,  but  I 
knew  he  was  not  telling  me  his  real  thoughts. 

"I  suppose  you  have  imperiled  your  career  for  my 
sake,"  I  said  gloomily ;  but  he  only  laughed.  He  did  not 
make  love  to  me  that  day  in  the  garden  and,  indeed,  I 
hardly  know  now  when  I  began  to  see  that  he  loved  me. 
Sometimes  I  think  I  might  have  guessed  it  one  night 
at  Ilgesheim  when  he  turned  silent  and  Baron  v.  Ost- 
hofen  appeared  like  the  devil  in  Faust  and  stared  at  us. 
Sometimes  I  know  I  saw  it  in  a  flash  one  morning  at 
Lucerne  when  we  were  looking  across  the  lake  together 
at  the  everlasting  snows  and  seeing  in  each  other's  eyes 
the  delight  that  filled  our  souls.  But  it  was  not  till  the 
hour  of  his  departure  that  he  told  me  in  plain  English 
what  I  did  not  want  to  hear:  that  he  hoped  I  should 
some  day  be  his  wife.  He  said  he  would  wait  as  long 
as  I  pleased  if  I  would  give  him  hope.  I  told  him  it 
was  impossible  and  I  asked  him  what  his  plan  for  my 
escape  from  Germany  had  been,  the  plan  he  had  spoken 


298  THE  DEVIL'S  CRADLE 

of  on  the  day  when  he  drove  me  back  to  Hohenroda  from 
the  cave. 

"Just  that,"  he  answered,  "if  you  would  have  married 

me  I  could  have  taken  you  back  to  England." 

****** 

Two  years  and  more  it  is  since  we  stood  together 
beside  the  lake  of  Lucerne  and  I  told  him  I  could  never 
marry  again.  It  is  three  years  and  more  since  Wolfram 
died.  The  war  is  still  raging,  America  is  with  us,  and 
Cornelius  Van  Brunt  is  at  his  Embassy  in  London.  He 
did  get  into  trouble  through  helping  me  and  all  his  chief 
could  do  was  to  let  him  go  quietly  and  quickly.  But 
the  story  got  abroad  and  as  you  may  imagine  no  one 
thought  the  worse  of  him  for  it. 

"You  are  not  treating  the  man  fairly,"  Dad  said  to 
me  this  morning.  "You  ought  to  make  up  your  mind 
one  way  or  the  other  and  stick  to  it." 

I  looked  up  at  Dad,  indignant  and  amazed.  Never  in 
his  life  had  he  interfered  with  my  intimate  personal 
affairs  or  suggested  that  I  was  not  conducting  them  ad- 
mirably. 

"You  keep  him  hanging  round  you." 

"We  are  great  friends  and  if  he  chooses  to  come  in 
and  out  ..." 

"You  are  furious  if  another  woman  looks  at  him." 

Imagine  Dad,  of  all  men,  noticing  a  little  thing  like 
that.  For  I  knew  what  he  meant.  It  happened  after 
lunch  at  the  Ritz  yesterday  when  Mrs.  Florida  got  hold 
of  him  as  we  were  having  coffee  in  the  lounge  and 
snatched  him  for  the  afternoon.  He  did  not  want  to, 
but  Mrs.  Florida  is  some  sort  of  cousin  and  gives  her- 


THE  DEVIL'S  CRADLE  299 

self  possessive  airs  that  I  consider  rather  ill  bred  and 
absurd. 

"He  saved  your  life,"  continued  Dad.  "You  would 
never  have  got  away  by  yourselves  and  the  Huns  would 
have  shot  you  as  they  shot  Edith  Cavell." 

They  would.  I  knew  it.  In  fact,  my  mother-in-law 
had  said  as  much  in  a  letter  that  had  come  to  me  from 
her  via  America,  soon  after  my  flight.  It  was  quite  a 
nice  letter.  She  said  that  for  her  son's  sake  she  was 
glad  I  had  escaped,  because  what  I  had  done  was  a 
crime  against  the  Fatherland  and  her  husband  could  not 
have  reconciled  it  with  his  conscience  to  show  me  any 
favor  on  account  of  our  relationship.  She,  however, 
would  have  suffered  terribly  if  I  had  been  caught  and 
executed,  and  she  could  never  forgive  Herr  Putzer  for 
trying  to  bring  this  about.  He  had  behaved  like  the 
plebeian  he  was  when  he  found  himself  locked  into  the 
room  and  his  language  when  he  was  let  out  and  found  the 
telephone  cut  was  such  that  she  fled  from  him.  The 
Graf  had  been  seriously  upset  by  the  whole  affair,  be- 
cause he  had  incurred  blame  with  his  superiors  and  was 
even  suspected  of  having  connived  at  my  escape.  So 
far  from  having  done  this  he  had  sent  Herr  Putzer  and 
three  soldiers  in  his  own  car  to  go  in  pursuit  of  me 
and,  as  I  knew,  they  had  only  missed  me  by  a  minute.  It 
must  have  been  the  will  of  God,  pursued  the  Grafin,  and 
ended  with  an  affectionate  message  from  Max.  She  did 
not  mention  Mr.  Van  Brunt. 

"You  don't  have  to  marry  a  man  because  he  saves 
your  life,"  I  argued,  but  Dad  said  nothing  more.  He 
had  expressed  his  opinion  and  left  me  to  digest  it.  That 
was  always  his  annoying  way. 


300  THE  DEVIL'S  CRADLE 

"You  mustn't  come  here  any  more,"  I  said  to  Mr.  Van 
Brunt  when  he  looked  in,  as  he  often  did,  on  his  way 
from  his  work  at  his  Embassy. 

"I  shall  not  be  coming  much  in  future,"  said  he. 

That  was  so  unlike  the  answer  I  expected,  and  so 
startling,  that  I've  no  doubt  I  showed  my  surprise.  For 
two  years  he  had  lived  near  us,  been  in  and  out  as  Dad 
said,  been  at  my  service,  become  a  corner-stone  of  life 
to  me. 

"I've  joined  up,"  he  explained.  "I  leave  in  a  week's 
time." 

"In  a  week." 

"A  great  deal  can  happen  in  a  week,  Karen." 

"Can  it?" 

****** 

So  it  happened  as  Dad  and  he  wished:  and  he  left 
to  train  in  France;  while  I  went  on  with  my  own  work 

in  London.    But  to-morrow  I  expect  him  home  on  leave. 
****** 

"The  Duchess  has  married  again,"  says  Wilkins,  flut- 
tering a  penny  illustrated  paper  in  high  excitement.  "At 
her  age !  A  Captain  Archibald ;  and  in  future  she  will  be 
known  as  Mrs.  Archibald.  What  a  come-down!" 

"I  suppose  she  doesn't  mind,"  I  said. 

"But  it  was  an  English  title,  m'm,"  says  Wilkins.  "No 
one  need  mind  giving  up  one  of  those  foreign  ones. 
...  I  heard  from  Hohenroda  to-day  .  .  .  from  the 
little  Mamsell  ..." 

I  had  heard  from  Hohenroda,  too,  but  I  could  not 
tell  Wilkins  much  about  the  letter.  It  was  disagreeably 
formal,  acknowledging  the  news  of  my  second  marriage, 
but  not  approving  of  it.  I  was  looking  at  it  and  feeling 


THE  DEVIL'S  CRADLE  301 

rather  depressed  when  the  door  opened  and  Cornelius 
walked  in,  a  day  sooner  than  he  was  expected.  He  was 
in  good  spirits  and  splendid  health,  and  his  khaki  suits 
him.  I  showed  him  the  Hohenroda  letter,  and  when  he 
had  read  it,  he  put  it  in  the  fire. 

"We  have  a  whole  week,  Karen,"  he  said. 

"We  have  as  long  as  we  both  live/'  said  I. 


THE  END. 


The  most  notable  novel  that  has  been 
published  during  the  past  year  is  "SALT 
OF  THE  EARTH"  by  Mrs.  Alfred  Sidg- 
wick.  For  months  it  has  consistently 
headed  the  lists  of  best  selling  novels  and 
deservedly  so,  for  nothing  has  been  written 
that  shows  the  soul  of  Germany  as  this  re- 
markable book  does. 

"We  are  the  Salt  of  the  Earth.  God  has 
chosen  us  to  regenerate  the  world.  We  are 
the  apostles  of  Progress,"  said  the  Kaiser 
in  his  famous  speech  at  Potsdam.  Mrs. 
Sidgwick  has  spent  most  of  her  life  among 
these  "supermen" — studying,  observing,  as- 
similating. She  is  the  most  competent  per- 
son to  write  this  type  of  novel  and  that  she 
has  done  her  work  well  is  best  proven  by  the 
success  of  her  book. 

Here  are  a  few  specimen  pages.  "SALT 
OF  THE  EARTH"  is  for  sale  wherever 
books  are  sold. 


XI 

ALL  through  the  night  it  had  been  touch  and 
go  with  Brenda.  She  had  undressed  and  gone 
to  bed,  but  not  to  sleep.  She  had  got  up,  half 
dressed  again,  and  sat  at  her  open  window  staring  at 
the  silent  summer  darkness  of  the  garden.  Suppose 
she  did  it!  Suppose  she  stole  out  of  the  house  with 
the  few  pounds  she  possessed  and  sent  a  telegram  to 
her  mother  or  left  a  note  assuring  her  that  she  was 
alive  and  well,  but  could  not  marry  Lothar.  It  had 
been  done  before,  and  still  the  world  went  round. 
But  she  would  have  to  walk  up  and  down  London  all 
night,  and  probably  be  molested  or  taken  up  by  the 
police;  and  the  police  were  so  stupid  and  yet  so 
knowing  that  they  would  probably  find  out  who  she 
was  and  bring  her  back  in  time  for  the  civil  wedding 
which  was  to  take  place  at  the  nearest  Registrar's 
office  at  eleven.  There  was  no  hurry.  If  she  decided 
to  go,  six  o'clock  would  be  time  enough,  just  before 
the  servants  were  up.  The  quiet  coat  and  skirt  she 
meant  to  put  on  for  the  morning  lay  ready  for  her. 
Her  wedding  gown  was  in  a  wardrobe  with  her  veil 
and  wreath  of  orange  blossom.  She  was  wearing  no 
myrtle.  She  knew  that  German  brides  invariably 
wore  myrtle,  but  she  was  English  and  wished  to 
remain  English.  She  had  taken  her  country  for 
granted  till  now,  when  she  was  going  to  leave  it  for 
ever.  All  the  liberty  and  sweetness  of  life  here  she 
had  taken  as  a  matter  of  course,  and  even  joined  in 
the  laughter  against  England  that  seems  amusing 

121 


122  SALT  OF  THE  EARTH 

while  you  live  there  enjoying  all  it  gives.  She  had 
thought  it  would  be  a  pleasant  adventure  to  set  up 
house  in  a  foreign  land  and  taste  its  strangeness;  but 
she  had  not  thought  enough  of  the  way  back,  a  way 
closed  by  marriage.  She  could  never  come  back 
except  as  a  visitor  and  by  permission  of  Lothar.  He 
had  promised  her  that  she  could  come  back  every 
year  for  some  weeks,  and  unless  she  stole  out  of  the 
house  now  at  the  eleventh  hour  she  would  have  to 
depend  on  his  promise.  Altogether  she  would  be 
dependent  on  him,  it  seemed — dependent  on  his 
pleasure  and  displeasure,  on  his  opinions,  on  his  family. 
Her  own  family  would  be  a  long  way  off  hencefor- 
ward. She  lay  down,  half  dressed,  outside  her  bed, 
weary,  dispirited  and  in  doubt.  So  her  mother  found 
her,  fast  asleep,  next  morning.  She  had  slept  through 
the  hour  when  she  might  have  escaped,  slept  fast  and 
dreamlessly  as  she  had  not  done  for  a  week. 

"It  is  ten  o'clock,"  said  Mrs.  Miiller.  "I  would 
not  allow  them  to  wake  you.  But  now  you've  only 
just  time  to  dress." 

"I  meant  to  wake  at  six,"  said  Brenda,  still  dazed 
with  sleep. 

"What  for?"  said  Mrs.  Miiller,  whose  hands  were 
full  of  letters,  telegrams  and  parcels.  Her  question 
remained  unanswered,  but  she  did  not  notice  it  be- 
cause a  maid  came  in  with  a  breakfast  tray  and  because 
there  were  various  things  to  look  at  and  discuss.  She 
was  not  quite  happy  about  her  daughter's  marriage, 
but  it  never  even  occurred  to  her  that  anything  could 
stop  it  now. 

Anyhow,  nothing  did  stop  it.  At  three  o'clock 
Brenda  came  out  of  church  married,  for  better  for 
worse,  to  Lothar,  and  at  five  o'clock  she  departed  with 
him  in  her  father's  car.  They  were  going  to  Dover 
that  night  and  to  Paris  to-morrow.  The  wedding  had 
been  a  crowded  one  and  well  arranged.  Eight  brides- 
maids and  two  pages  had  followed  Brenda  to  the  altar, 


SALT  OF  THE  EARTH  123 

a  full  choral  service  had  accompanied  her  marriage 
vows,  her  friends  had  given  her  an  affectionate  send 
off,  and  as  she  took  a  last  look  at  her  old  home  she  saw 
her  own  people  in  the  foreground,  her  father  and 
mother,  Jem,  Violet  and  Thekla,  and  Thekla's  two 
little  girls,  Mary  and  Barbara. 

"Gott  sei  Dank,  that's  over,"  said  Lothar.  "Take 
off  your  veil,  little  wife.  It  is  impossible  to  kiss  a 
woman  properly  through  a  veil." 

"People  can  see  in,"  said  Brenda  doubtfully. 

"What  do  I  care?"  cried  Lothar,  and  strained  her 
fiercely  to  him. 

That  sort  of  thing  went  on  all  through  the  honey- 
moon, and  Brenda  found  it  wearing.  If  Lothar  wanted 
a  veil  off  he  said  so  without  any  consideration  for  her, 
and  if  he  wanted  to  put  his  arm  round  her  he  did  not 
mind  who  looked  on.  In  fact,  he  walked  her  up  and 
down  the  terrace  of  a  Swiss  hotel  so  interlaced  that 
she  knew  every  one  English  must  be  laughing  at 
them ;  but  she  submitted  rather  than  to  risk  an  explosion 
of  temper.  He  had  no  control  over  his  temper,  she 
soon  found;  and  quite  childish  trifles  roused  it.  Wher- 
ever they  went,  sound  and  fury  went  with  them,  so 
that  she  dreaded  a  meal  because  it  usually  meant  a 
row  with  a  waiter.  She  could  see  that  every  one 
who  served  him  hated  him,  and  she  knew  that  his 
arrogance  was  never  served  as  well  as,  for  instance, 
her  father's  considerate  politeness.  His  behavior 
to  her  was  uxorious  and  tyrannical,  a  blend  that 
could  not  please  a  girl  as  detached  and  fastidious  as 
Brenda.  If  she  had  been  blindly  in  love  with  him, 
she  might  have  borne  to  be  adored,  scolded,  kissed, 
bullied,  checked  here  and  ordered  there  in  a  whirlwind 
of  proprietary  ardor.  But  she  never  had  been  blindly 
in  love,  and  marriage  did  not  make  her  so.  There 
must  be  something  wanting  in  one  of  them,  she 
thought,  some  magnetic  quality  in  him  that  would 
have  fascinated  her,  or  some  strain  of  the  elemental 


124  SALT  OF  THE  EARTH 

woman  in  her  that  would  have  surrendered  to  a  mate 
with  a  club.  When  it  was  time  to  go  to  Berlin  she 
felt  relieved.  He  would  be  hard  at  work  at  once,  he 
told  her,  and  she  would  have  many  lonely  hours.  She 
looked  forward  to  them. 

About  their  arrival  in  Berlin  he  preserved  a  resolute 
silence  that  vexed  her.  He  would  not  tell  her  whether 
they  were  to  stay  with  his  parents  or  in  a  hotel  or  in 
rooms  till  their  home  was  ready  for  them,  nor  would 
he  say  in  what  quarter  he  thought  of  living  or  whether 
they  were  to  have  a  flat  or  what  he  called  a  villa. 
When  she  questioned  him  about  these  matters  he 
evaded  her  and  enlarged  on  the  perfect  taste  and 
judgment  exercised  by  Little  Mamma  and  his  sisters 
in  domestic  matters.  He  said  again  and  again  that 
though  Elsa's  husband  was  rich  and  Mina's  compara- 
tively poor,  they  were  both  so  blessed  in  their  wives 
that  their  existence  was  one  of  unbroken  comfort. 
In  fact,  they  were  men  any  man  must  envy. 

"If  you  model  yourself  on  my  sisters  in  all  ways, 
you  will  make  me  happy,"  he  said. 

"When  you  talk  like  that  you  remind  me  that  I 
want  to  be  happy  myself,"  said  Brenda,  who  was 
finding  unsuspected  and  disturbing  wells  of  anger  in 
herself  at  times. 

"A  woman's  happiness  lies  in  self-sacrifice  and 
devotion  to  others.  At  least  with  us  it  does.  Our 
ideas  ..." 

"Your  ideas  about  women  are  out  of  date,"  said 
Brenda.  "You  will  find  them  all  in  our  older  poets." 

"You  talk  nonsense,  my  little  treasure,  and  if  you 
did  not  look  so  pretty  in  that  white  peignoir  you  would 
make  me  angry.  My  ideas  about  women  are  the 
right  ones.  At  any  rate  they  will  govern  your  conduct 
in  future.  We  have  women  in  Berlin  with  what  you 
call  advanced  opinions,  but  no  one  pays  the  least 
attention  to  them.  We  do  not  even  allow  a  woman 
to  attend  a  political  meeting." 


SALT  OF  THE  EARTH  125 

"You  allow  her  to  do  heavy  field  work.  I  have 
seen  it." 

"Why  not?  A  woman  is  there  to  serve  men  and 
rear  children.  Otherwise  the  world  could  get  on 
better  without  her.  What  does  she  do  for  the  world? 
She  has  no  economic  existence  at  all,  and  she  cannot 
bear  arms.  All  she  can  do  is  to  devote  herself  to 
others.  My  mamma  and  my  sisters  are  busy  from 
morning  till  night  and  never  think  of  themselves  at 
all." 

Brenda  naturally  wondered  whether  Lothar's  sisters 
were  going  to  be  as  tiresome  and  officious  as  his 
mother,  and  she  made  up  her  mind  that  she  would  try 
to  live  as  far  from  them  as  possible.  With  this  idea  in 
her  mind,  one  wet  afternoon  she  unfolded  a  map  of 
Berlin  that  she  had  with  her  and  began  finding  the 
Bavarian  quarter  where  she  knew  that  the  Erdmanns 
lived. 

"What  are  you  doing?"  said  her  husband  when 
he  came  in  and  found  her  employed  in  this  way. 
"A  map  of  Berlin !  Where  did  you  get  it  ?  In 
London?  Have  they  maps  of  Berlin  in  London? 
Do  you  understand  how  to  use  a  map?  You  see  this 
long  street,  the  Kurf iirstendamm !  That  is  where 
we  shall  live.  You  have  nothing  to  compare  with  it 
in  London." 

"I  should  like  to  live  right  in  the  forest,  outside 
the  city,"  said  Brenda. 

"We  shall  live  in  the  Kurfiirstendamm,"  said 
Lothar  and  would  say  no  more.  It  was  not  till  they 
actually  arrived  in  Berlin  a  week  later,  and  were 
received  at  the  station  by  a  family  group  with  offerings 
of  flowers,  that  Brenda  learned  what  hung  over  her. 
The  group  consisted  of  Little  Mamma,  Elsa,  Mina, 
Professor  August  Zorn  and  some  children.  Brenda, 
alighting  in  a  limp,  weary  condition,  got  a  confused 
impression  of  gushing  embraces,  critical  glances, 
flowers,  pigtails  and  a  harsh  croaking  voice  that  laid 


126  SALT  OF  THE  EARTH 

down  the  law  even  to  Little  Mamma.  When  the 
group  moved  on,  some  of  it  got  into  a  taxi  and  some 
said  they  would  go  back,  as  they  came,  by  tramcar. 
Brenda  found  herself  in  a  large  taxi  with  Little 
Mamma,  Lothar  and  Professor  Zorn.  She  wondered 
why  he  came  in  the  taxi  and  let  his  wife  and  children 
go  by  car;  and  she  decided  at  a  glance  that  she  did  not 
like  him.  She  had  never  seen  such  a  plain  little  pom- 
pous irritable  man.  He  had  fat  cheeks  the  color 
of  tallow,  a  button  nose,  beady  black  eyes,  and  a  quick, 
fidgety  manner.  As  he  got  into  the  taxi  he  stumbled 
over  Brenda's  dressing  bag,  and  that  upset  his  temper 
sadly. 

"The  bag  is  much  too  big,"  he  said.  "My  wife 
has  a  small  bag  which  she  can  carry.  It  holds  my 
things  as  well  as  hers.  I  hate  impediments  on  a 
journey." 

"Gott  sei  Dank,  our  travels  are  over,"  said  Lothar. 
"When  one  marries  one  has  to  have  a  wedding 
journey,  but  ours  has  lasted  too  long.  I'm  sick  of 
hotels." 

"Where  are  we  going?"  said  Brenda,  who  thought 
it  was  time  to  know. 

"Where  does  a  young  wife  expect  to  go?"  snapped 
August.  "What  a  strange  question!  To  your  hus- 
band's home,  of  course." 

"But  we  have  not  chosen  our  home  yet,"  said 
Brenda. 

"It  has  been  chosen  for  you,"  said  Frau  Erdmann 
solemnly.  "You  will  find  everything  ready,  even  to 
the  roast  in  the  oven  and  the  cook  to  dish  it  up.  It 
has  been  hard  work,  but  every  day  when  I  returned 
with  an  aching  head  and  agitated  nerves  I  said  to 
Wilhelm,  'I  do  it  for  my  son  and  he  will  thank  me.' " 

"Little  Mamma,  I  thank  you  from  the  bottom  of 
my  heart,"  exclaimed  Lothar,  and  printed  a  resounding 
kiss  somewhere  near  one  of  the  sandy  wings  that 
nearly  covered  his  mother's  ears. 


SALT  OF  THE  EARTH  127 

"Do  yotr  mean  that  you  have  taken  a  flat  and  put 
my  furniture  into  it?"  said  Brenda. 

"  'My*  is  a  word  never  heard  on  the  lips  of  a 
German  wife,"  said  the  Professor.  "You  and  all 
you  bring  with  you  are  now  the  property  of  Lothar." 

Brenda  had  not  known  many  violent  dislikes  in 
her  life,  but  she  conceived  one  now  for  the  Profes- 
sor, and  as  she  thought  he  was  behaving  offensively 
she  ignored  him  and,  turning  to  her  mother-in-law, 
asked  again  whether  a  flat  had  really  been  taken  for 
them.  But  before  Frau  Erdmann  could  reply  August 
bounced  to  his  feet,  livid  with  fury,  and  shouted  to  the 
driver  to  stop.  j 

"What  is  it,  August?"  said  Frau  Erdmann.  "Are 
you  not  well?" 

The  little  man  was  actually  spluttering  with  rage 
as  he  answered.  i 

"I  am  evidently  not  good  enough  for  the  gracious 
one.  When  I  speak  she  does  not  answer.  This  is 
English  Kultur.  When  a  man  of  years  and  learning 
addresses  such  a  silly  goose,  she  replies  with  a  stare 
and  does  not  know  enough  to  open  her  mouth.  But 
there  is  a  limit  to  what  my  dignity  can  endure. 
Civility  is  my  right  and  I  insist  on  it.  If  Lothar  is 
under  the  slipper,  it  is  not  my  affair.  Such  manners 
are  typical."  i 

Brenda  was  aghast  and  looked  at  Lothar.  She  saw 
no  promise  of  support  in  his  face,  but  only  scowling 
impatience;  while  Frau  Erdmann,  after  waiting  for 
him  to  speak,  said:  "I  should  have  thought  you 
would  expect  Brenda  to  be  polite  to  your  relatives. 
My  idea  of  good  manners  is  to  reply  amiably  when  I 
am  addressed.  August  was  quite  right.  It  is  unbe- 
coming in  a  young  wife  to  speak  as  if  anything  in  the 
house  belonged  to  her  only." 

"It  was  quite  accidental  and  shall  never  happen 
again,"  said  Brenda,  and  then  the  taxi  stopped  at  a 
tall  house  liberally  decorated  with  turrets  and  having 


128  SALT  OF  THE  EARTH 

on  either  side  of  the  front  door  two  colossal  figures 
made  of  red  brick.  A  lift  took  the  perturbed  party 
to  the  fourth  floor,  where  on  one  of  the  doors  Brenda 
saw  a  brass  plate  with  her  husband's  name.  A 
blowsy-looking  maidservant  wearing  a  tartan  skirt, 
a  velveteen  bodice,  and  a  coral  brooch  appeared  in 
answer  to  the  bell,  bid  them  good  day  and  invited 
them  in.  She  looked  hard  at  Brenda,  addressed  Frau 
Erdmann  as  yriddige  Frau,  and  said  that  she  was 
all  in  a  flutter  because  the  meat  had  only  just  come 
and  would  not  be  ready  as  early  as  it  should  have 
been. 

"Welcome,  little  wife,  to  our  home,"  said  Lothar 
as  they  entered,  but  he  was  out  of  humor  and  spoke 
constrainedly. 

As  Brenda  crossed  the  threshold  she  saw  that  the 
passage  was  hung  with  wreaths  and  garlands  of  green 
stuff,  as  if  it  had  been  Christmas,  and  on  the  walls 
she  saw  slabs  of  wood  on  which  proverbs  and  greet- 
ings were  done  in  rough  poker  work. 

"All  these  Mina  and  the  children  have  prepared," 
Frau  Erdmann  pointed  out,  and  then,  throwing  open 
a  door,  she  said  in  a  proud  voice,  "The  dining-room!" 

It  really  was  a  trying  moment  for  Brenda,  who  had 
thought  out  her  color  schemes  with  the  greatest  care 
and  chosen  all  her  furniture  in  relation  to  the  walls 
and  carpets  she  meant  to  have  as  a  setting.  She 
wanted  a  warm  glowing  dining-room  with  sun  on  the 
breakfast  table,  a  Persian  carpet  on  the  floor  and 
curtains  to  go  with  the  tawny  pinks  of  it. 

"The  dining-room  shall  be  either  orange  or  rose, 
according  to  what  I  find,"  she  said  to  her  mother. 
"The  drawing-room  shall  be  creamy  white  mostly  and 
my  bedroom  green  and  blue.  I  know  just  how  it  will 
all  look,  and  you  must  soon  come  to  see  it."  And 
now — here  was  the  dining-room  with  the  furniture 
she  had  chosen  set  against  walls  that  looked  as  if 
large  brown  chenille  serpents  were  crawling  over  a 


SALT  OF  THE  EARTH  129 

sickly  yellow  ground.  The  ceiling  was  in  heavy 
shades  of  brown  and  gamboge  to  match  the  walls, 
and  the  curtains  were  of  thick  chocolate  reps  with 
elaborate  upholstered  canopies.  Even  the  carpet  was 
brown,  and  on  the  crookedly  set  dinner  table  there 
was  a  vase  of  artificial  flowers. 

"Very  practical,"  said  the  Professor.  "Very  rich 
and  elegant,  too.  Little  Mamma  has  taste.  That 
one  must  allow.  Elsa  wanted  light  colors  here,  I 
believe,  but  she  need  not  consider  expense  at  all. 
This  brown  will  last  a  lifetime  and  does  not  fade 
much.  We  have  it  ourselves  in  our  salon." 

He  looked  like  it,  thought  Brenda,  and  followed 
Frau  Erdmann  through  a  communicating  door  into 
the  drawing-room,  which  had  been  distempered  a  hard 
cold  slate,  neither  blue  nor  gray. 

"This  room  is  not  to  my  taste,"  began  Frau  Erd- 
mann, and  Brenda  said  unwarily  that  perhaps  it  could 
be  altered  and  that  she  had  thought  of  having  ivory 
white  walls.  Her  Chesterfield  and  all  her  big  com- 
fortable easy  chairs  were  covered  with  an  attractive 
flowery  chintz  and  she  had  found  some  fine  pieces  of 
old  furniture  for  this  room,  one  of  which  was  an 
inlaid  French  cabinet  with  good-sized  drawers. 

"I  was  not  thinking  of  the  walls,"  said  Frau  Erd- 
mann. "The  walls  are  as  I  chose  them,  and  if  they 
are  not  pleasing  to  you  I  am  sorry.  I  did  my  best, 
and  more  than  that  no  one  can  do.  But  cotton  chair 
covers  in  the  salon  I  should  not  have  advised.  In  a 
bedroom,  yes,  but  in  a  salon  one  expects  velvet  or 
brocade.  I  should  also  have  preferred  a  suite  of  new 
furniture  such  as  you  can  buy  at  several  places  in 
Berlin.  Your  chairs  are  a  shape  that  we  consider 
quite  out  of  fashion  and  your  other  pieces  do  not 
match.  The  chest  of  drawers  would  look  better  in  a 
bedroom  in  my  opinion,  but  Elsa  seemed  to  think  it 
should  be  placed  here.  She  has  some  ideas  I  do  not 
hold  with,  but  she  agrees  with  me  about  these  cotton 


130  SALT  OF  THE  EARTH 

covers.  I  am  afraid  this  room  will  make  a  bad  impres-, 
sion,  and  that  is  a  pity,  as  you  have  your  way  to  make 
amongst  us.  People  will  think  that  you  are  trying 
to  bring  over  English  fashions.  Even  the  Empress 
Frederick  found  that  it  was  a  mistake  to  do  that. 
We  Berliners  are  quite  satisfied  with  our  own  taste  in 
every  way." 

Brenda  did  not  reply  to  this  torrent  of  expostulation, 
because  her  spirits  had  fallen  to  zero.  She  knew 
Lothar  well  enough  now  to  know  that  he  was  thor- 
oughly out  of  humor.  August  was  eyeing  her  with 
malevolent  curiosity,  and  when  the  whole  party  moved 
on  into  her  bedroom  she  hardly  knew  whether  she 
wanted  to  laugh  or  cry.  For  here  the  walls  and  the 
carpet  burst  upon  her  in  glaring  red,  a  red  that  was 
oppressive  and  detestable.  The  windows  were  tightly 
shut,  the  air  smelled  stuffily  of  new  wood,  new  paint 
and  new  blankets,  and  behind  her  washstand  some  one 
had  hung  a  great  breadth  of  coarse  straw-colored 
canvas  on  which  monkeys  cut  out  of  black  cloth  had 
been  stitched  by  machine. 

"What  fascinating  monkeys!"  said  Brenda,  going 
up  to  them. 

"They  are  the  last  word  in  artistic  decoration," 
said  August,  and  Brenda  instantly  wished  they  were 
not  on  her  walls. 

"I  hope  you  are  satisfied  with  everything,"  said 
Frau  Erdmann. 

"But,  Little  Mamma,  I  am  more  than  satisfied," 
cried  Lothar.  "When  I  think  of  all  the  trouble  you 
have  saved  us  and  the  fatigue  you  have  undergone  at 
your  age,  I  cannot  thank  you  enough." 

Brenda  had  gone  to  one  of  the  windows  which  she 
found  looked  out  at  a  courtyard,  surrounded  by  tall 
houses.  She  knew  enough  of  Continental  life  to  know 
that  a  room  with  such  an  outlook  would  be  noisy  all 
day  and  most  of  the  night,  and  that  the  only  way 
of  securing  privacy  was  by  keeping  curtains  closely 


SALT  OF  THE  EARTH  131 

drawn.  As  she  stood  there  her  husband  came  up  to 
her  and  spoke  in  a  low  voice  that  she  knew  had  vials 
of  wrath  behind  it. 

"My  mother  is  waiting  for  you  to  thank  her  for  all 
she  has  done,"  he  said. 

"I  didn't  want  it  done." 

"Nevertheless,  you  will  thank  my  mother  for  the 
trouble  she  has  taken." 

With  mechanical  politeness  Brenda  turned  to  Frau 
Erdmann  and  said  something  that  might  pass  for 
thanks.  The  ensuing  farewells  were  strained,  and 
when  the  husband  and  wife  were  left  to  themselves 
their  first  words  in  their  future  home  were  words  of 
discord.  Brenda  had  been  trying  to  make  up  her  mind 
to  say  little  or  nothing  of  the  vexation  she  felt,  but 
Lothar  stirred  her  anger  at  once. 

"  Frauenlaunen?  Women's  whims!  I've  no 
patience  with  them,"  he  began. 

"I  think  you  ought  to  have  told  me,"  cried  Brenda. 

"Told  you  what?" 

"Told  me  that  you  had  commissioned  your  mother 
to  take  this  flat  and  choose  these  atrocious  papers  and 
carpets.  I  could  have  explained  that  I  wanted  to 
choose  my  own." 

"August  is  right,"  said  Lothar.  "There  is  too 
much  'my'  in  your  point  of  view.  This  is  not  your 
house.  It  is  mine.  You  are  in  it  because  you  are 
my  wife.  If  I  am  satisfied,  nothing  else  matters." 

"I  could  not  live  with  these  walls.  I  shall  have 
them  all  redone  at  my  own  expense." 

"You  will  not  have  one  done.  I  will  not  permit 
you  to  waste  our  joint  income  in  such  a  senseless  way. 
You  have  married  a  man  and  not  a  milksop,  and  the 
sooner  you  find  it  out  the  better." 

"But  surely  I  am  to  have  money  of  my  own.  My 
father  said  so." 

"It  will  be  spent  as  I  direct." 

"Well  ...  I  hope  we  sha'n't  quarrel  about  money." 


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